


Broken: A Transformers Fanfic

by TheQueenofBlades



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars, Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-31 09:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenofBlades/pseuds/TheQueenofBlades
Summary: Angelica Hollis is a 17 year old girl who is trapped in an abusive home and struggles with depression. However, her hellish life changes when she meets the twins of terror. But, is the change for the better? (Full Summary inside) Sunstreaker/OC/Sideswipe [Rated M for language]





	1. Summary

Abuse

_Pain_

Trauma

_Damage_

Loss

_Tears_

That’s all she’s known, all her life.

_I’m keeping it all inside,_

Only 3 people know what she’s going through: herself, and her two best friends.

_And I’m stuck in a living hell._

But even they have no idea how to help her.

_Someone fix me,_

She’s a girl in pain, and she’s searching for a way out.

_Please..._

And that way may lie in the sparks of an infamous duo.

_I’m stuck with an incurable disease…_

Can the twins of terror find a way to help her?

_I’m just…_

Or will she forever remain:

_Broken…_

Broken.

* * *

 

**I'm editing the Summary now seeing as after the first actual chapter, the views aren't as high.**

**Most likely due to boredom.**

**I apologize.**

**This fanfic starts out pretty slow because I'm trying to build the protagonist's character so that she's easier to understand later on.**

**(It gets better and more interesting, I promise.)**

**This is also my very first Transformers fanfiction, so if you see anything I should edit to improve, please let me know.**

**Happy reading!**

**~ The Queen of Blades**


	2. Chapter 1: Hi there

_ Hi there,  _

_ My name’s Angelica Hollis. _

_ I’m 17, going to be 18 in a couple days. It’s June 29th, and I just graduated High School four weeks ago. While most girls, and guys, who were in my class are all planning for college, checking out various campuses, getting their ducks in a row, and all that jazz, I’m over here struggling to convince my dad to even let me go to college. _

_ This is my story….. _

 

The dark cherry wood door to my room burst open suddenly, bouncing off the wall. In the now open doorway stood a 6’4, very angry figure. “Angelica! Stop fucking typing on that damn computer of yours. Get your ass downstairs and do the dishes like I fucking told you to ten minutes ago!!!” His blue eyes glinted hatefully at my position that practically screamed “I’m comfortable” on my twin sized bed, and his face reddened from his anger. If he was a cartoon character, his face would be exactly the bright red color of a ripe tomato, and grey steam would be puffing out of his ears and curling up over his head.

 

“Okay! Sorry, dad!” I apologized quickly, slamming the lid of my grey HP laptop shut and scrambling off my bed, abandoning the warmth of my dark blue comforter. He fixed me with one final glare before he stomped away. I waited until I heard his feet thump heavily down the stairs and the sound of his footsteps faded away before I let out a breath of relief. 

 

“I half expected him to beat my ass,” I muttered, snatching a hair band from off my cluttered cherry wood dresser. Literally all of the wooden objects in my room was made out of cherry wood, mostly because I had specifically requested to decorate my own room. Taking my hair band, I hurriedly tied my hair into a loose ponytail, checking it quickly in my full length mirror that sat right beside my dresser to ensure it didn’t look too awful; before I too exited my room and thumped down the old, creaky wooden stairs. I suppose his outburst was my fault - I thought I was going to be able to finish writing before he got impatient and came up to get me.  _ Oops. _

 

My socked feet softly padded into the marble tiled kitchen, trying to ignore the venomous look that was boring into my back as I turned to the sink,  _ Thank God there’s not a lot…  _ I thought to myself as I picked up the wash rag and immediately began to wash the dishes. 

 

“Once you’re done with that, I want you to walk downtown and pick up more gasoline for the car.” My dad grunted as I heard the tell-tale crinkle of a newspaper being turned to the next page.

 

I opened my mouth to protest -why couldn’t he just drive the damn car downtown and get the gas himself? - but then I shut it hastily; more than likely the dumbass had run the car dry again. Besides, I had avoided a beating just a few moments prior, I wasn’t eager to goad him into performing such an act now.

 

“Of course, dad,” I said, taking care to sound respectful as while also keeping snark from leaking into my tone. I scrubbed the last dish clean, dried it off, and placed it back into its rightful place in the cupboard. When I turned around, I saw my dad watching me carefully, his newspaper lying on the table, forgotten for the moment.

 

“I hope you’re still not nursing those damn dreams to get accepted into that God-forsaken college,” he said abruptly, his tone flat, expression instantly hardening.

 

“No, dad,” I answered softly. It was lie, but, he didn’t need to know that.

 

He silently scrutinized me for a moment longer. “Good,” came the satisfied response as he once again picked up his newspaper and returned to reading. 

 

I waited a second longer to see if he said anything further. When he didn’t, I hurried from the room, dashing up the stairs, the wood once again violently protesting, in order to retrieve my phone and change my outfit. Mostly to ensure that I wouldn’t get gas all over my new tank-top, just in case, God forbid, the fucking gas splashes all over me again. 

 

Grimacing and keeping that…. _ unfortunate _ incident in mind, I entered my room and picked up a faded red tank-top, making a slight face.  _ Not very attractive...But it’ll work for this occasion.  _ I paused at that thought, letting out a loud laugh.  _ Since when did I give a fuck about what people think of me? It’s not like I’m gonna see any cute guys, and even then, those dicks aren’t gonna look twice at me. _ I snorted in amusement, snatching a pair of black, nearly knee-length shorts off the floor before changing into the worn clothes. 

 

I looked at myself in my full length mirror, turning from side to side. I took my hair band out of my hair, shaking it slightly, noting how the sunlight shining through the window seemed to dance through my hair, highlighting my red streaks that were scattered throughout my chestnut brown, shoulder length hair. The sunlight also hit my eyes at an angle, making my eyes shine a crystal blue, the darker blue that rimmed around my irises more apparent. I frowned, noting that the shirt drew a little more attention to my chest than I wanted it to. I was kind of flat, not as big chested as most girls, but that still didn’t stop me from anxiously pulled at it, huffing in annoyance when it didn’t help. 

 

Admitting defeat, I grumbled, feeling quite irked. “Whatever, let ‘em look..” I grabbed my hairbrush, running it through my hair briefly to get rid of rats before returning my hair to a loose ponytail. I picked up my phone and wallet, shoving them into my pockets, and made my way down the stairs again, pausing briefly at the entrance to the kitchen. 

 

During that pause, I pondered if I should ask my dad for keys to get back in the house. After debating for several long moments, I came to a decision.  _ Eh, nah, I’ll be fine. _ I shrugged it off, slipping on my Nike tennis shoes on my way to the garage in order to retrieve the metal gas can. Once I had done so, I continued on my way by exiting via the side door that led into the garage from outside.

 

The moment I stepped outside, I was instantly greeted by the crisp, clean, cool air as the wind whipped the strands of my hair too short to fit in my ponytail into my face. The sun was glowing warmly, the sky was an impeccable azure, and fluffy white wisps of clouds skipped across the unblemished sky, their behavior akin to newborn lambs that were being pursued by an unseen force. The calm seemed to relax me - today seemed like a perfect day. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 

 

_ Well, something probably will now that I jinxed it.  _ I laughed lightly, beginning my journey to downtown in the not so little busy town of Queenstown, North Carolina.

 

Walking downtown from my house takes about twenty minutes, and getting to the gas station adds an additional ten to the traveling time - mostly because all traffic is centered around the dingy little joint, and getting to it is cancerous. 

 

Today was unusual, however, as there was no traffic to be seen.  _ That’s strange.. _ I waved it off, despite the feeling of foreboding.  _ People are probably at home enjoying some family time, nothing too unnatural.  _ Although there was a significant lack of traffic, I still looked both ways at the pedestrian crossing. The light was a glaring red for the road I was crossing meaning the drivers were going to stop...Or so I thought. 

 

The traffic lights swung in the wind, ominously creaking, as if at any moment they would snap off from their perch and fall to the ground below. Ignoring that  _ oh so pleasant _ thought, I stepped out onto the crosswalk and was halfway across the street, when I heard the unmistakable roar of an engine. I promptly turned, startled because I had seen no other vehicles in the area, much less heard them. As such, I hesitated in my walk as a black vehicle, an SUV I assumed, came into view as it was barrelling towards me at a high speed. I felt panic surge into my chest, madly sprinting the rest of the way across the street. I had barely gotten out the way before the car whooshed past, tires scuffing the back of my heels.

 

“Hey!” I yelled, adrenaline racing, “watch where you’re going, jackass!!” The car didn’t stop, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or irritated. Part of me wanted to confront and beat the shit out of the driver for not obeying traffic laws and almost hitting me, the other part was fearful of what the driver may do to  **_me_ ** . I sighed heavily, trying to calm my racing heart as I continued walking, carefully picking my way through the cracked and unbalanced cement. 

 

When I finally reached the gas station building, I opened the door, and it squeaked like a tortured mouse in protest. As I stepped inside, I wheezed as the unwelcome scent of petroleum and various newly cooked gas station foods invaded my lungs, and I couldn’t help but cough in disgust. If one tasted the two, they wouldn’t really be able to taste the difference; I knew that because I made the mistake of trying gas station food.  _ Never again. _ I shuddered at the disgusting memory.

 

“Getting more gas for your pops, Angie?” The 6’4 caucasian boy from behind the counter inquired as he noticed me walking up to him. He was a year older than me, four inches taller, had playful green eyes, short mahogany hair, and a great sense of humor. Meet one of my best friends, James Davisson.

 

I smiled warmly, “yeah, he goes through this shit hella fast.” I handed him the gas can.

 

He shook his head, frowning slightly as he took the gas can, “why doesn’t your old man come down and get his own gas?”

 

“I donno, James, probably ‘cuz he wants me outta the house for a bit so I’m not driving him crazy.” I laughed. James smiled slightly, bowing his head as he walked away to fill up the gas can. He was only person who really knew about my life at home, and my life at home wasn’t exactly….. _ perfect _ .

 

I took the opportunity to wander around the store before he came back, admiring all the new arrivals of various foods. I eyed a chocolate bar on the shelf, mulling over whether I wanted to spend the $2 to buy it, before I plucked it from it’s perch and headed back to the front counter. James came out from the back and grinned when he saw the candy bar.

 

“Here ya go, and you can have that on the house.” He set the newly filled gas can on the counter and gestured to the candy bar, winking as he did so. “It’ll be our little secret.”

 

“James, I couldn’t possibly-”

 

“I insist,” he said, looking me in the eye, “it’s the least I can do.”

 

I bit my lip hesitantly before sighing, and he grinned triumphantly. “Alright, you win. What’s the gas gonna cost this time?” I fished my wallet out my pocket and pulled it out, looking at him.

 

“$20, it was $21, but you get a dollar discount for being so darn ‘perty,” he smirked teasingly, and heat instantly flooded my face. I handed him the cash and picked up the gas can, pocketing my wallet and the candy bar. “You still tryna’ convince dadster to let you go to college?”

 

I frowned, glancing down, “yeah..”

 

James sighed heavily and I looked up, my blue eyes meeting his green ones. “You’ll convince him sometime soon, Angie, I know you will.” He gave me a reassuring smile.

 

“Yeah, thanks for the support.” I gave him a grateful smile. “Bye, James, thanks for the food.” I waved, trudging out of the store. 

 

“See ya, Angie!” He called before the door clanked shut behind me.

 

I stepped outside, inhaling deeply, glad to be back in the fresh air. I honestly couldn’t understand how James could stand inhaling that shit all day.  _ Practice, lots and lots of practice...Obviously, or he just really likes the combination of the two…. _ There was suddenly a loud purring, as if there was a giant cat being given a tummy rub, that, or…..maybe just a  **really** happy cat.

 

I frowned,  _ what the hell is that? _ I kept walking, but paused when I got back to the pedestrian crossing, listening intently, trying to determine where the sound was coming from.

 

There was a loud purr again, and this time it sounded as if it was coming from the alleyway across the street.  _ Of course the alleyway has to be shrouded in shadows, that’s not ominous at alllllll… _

 

I bit my lip nervously, glancing down the street which I was supposed to be walking down to return the gas can. I could walk home and give my dad the gas can, and  _ hope _ that he would let me leave again and  _ pray _ that the source of the purring noise was still there.

 

Or……

 

I could investigate now, just a peek, wouldn’t even have to stay.

 

I weighed my options, torn between the two, when the purring noise sounded again and promptly made my decision for me.

 

I struggled as I practically dragged the metal gas can across the street, the metal protesting with loud clanks, mentally rambling off my thanks that I didn’t have to deal with avoiding another speeding maniac.

 

When I finally got to the alleyway, I was heaving and out of breath.  _ There’s no point in lugging this damn thing further..  _ I decided, setting the can at the entrance of the gloomy alleyway. 

 

The town may be dingy, but make no mistake, pretty much all of the inhabitants were loaded - they were just too damn lazy to fix their town. 

 

Concluding that caution was the best course of action, I carefully, but swiftly, headed down the alleyway towards the source of the noise. Expertly scurrying from dumpster to dumpster in order to conceal myself in case there were people around. 

 

_ I doubt that they could make the noise I was hearing but ya know, better safe than sorry.  _

 

I soon noted that I had reached the end of the alleyway, and as I peered around a particularly tall dumpster, I gasped audibly as I saw the source of the noise in front of me.

 

It was a red lamborghini.


	3. Chapter 2: Who the hell left a lamborghini lying around?

Ignoring common sense, which was probably a _really_ stupid idea, I stepped out from behind the dumpster, openly gaping at this perfect car.

 

Well, almost perfect.

 

It was dinged up pretty bad, the red paint was faded from dirt and grime, peeling off sporadically across the body. It needed work, that’s for sure, but it was still a thing of beauty.

 

“Wow,” I breathed, closing the distance between myself and the lamborghini. I walked around the car until I was by the drivers side and peered through the window that had been smashed in, perhaps recently as there was glass littered about. There was no one inside.

 

 _That’s strange…_ I whirled around as I heard a skittering noise behind me, tense as fear began to arise. Was the driver back? Would they think I had smashed the window? I frantically looked around, only letting out a sigh of relief once I had located the source of the noise: a bird freaking out by my sudden appearance and flying off to God knows where.

 

The “danger” having passed, I turned around to regard the lamborghini once more. The purring of the engine had ceased entirely, and it had only done so when I had entered the alleyway.

 

_Had I imagined the purring altogether?_

 

I shook my head. It had to be real.

 

_But engines just don’t purr by themselves._

 

Tabling that thought, I wondered aloud, “who the hell leaves a lamborghini just fucking lying around with a smashed window?” I frowned at the glass that lay both in the interior and on the ground around the car. I gently opened the driver’s door, poking my head inside to examine the interior for any further damage. It seemed the few things that were wrong with the car, that the eye could see at least, was the smashed window, dinged up body, and shitty paint.

 

I ducked out and shut the door, walking around the perimeter of the car, peering anxiously at it - leaning in close, examining the tires, headlights, backlights, everything that I could see, really, without having to crawl under it.

 

I arrived back at my starting point, by the drivers door. “Is there anything wrong with you?” I asked softly, opening the door and carefully picking the pieces of glass out of the seat. Once I had done so, I sat down in the driver’s seat, lightly running my hands over the steering wheel. “God, you’re a thing of _beauty_.” I murmured, fingers dancing over practically everything.

 

However, something gave me pause.“Hang on,” I said, suddenly aware of an object in the middle of the steering wheel. I hadn’t thought much of it initially since most cars had their company logo in the center, but this one looked _different_.

 

“What’s this?” I inquired, rubbing my thumb over the logo, attempting to remove the grime. After a moment or two, the dirt fell away and I inspected it closer. “Is that….a face?” I stared, puzzled, at the face, which seemed to be conjured of various shapes. “What are you?” I breathed.

 

I fumbled quickly for my cellphone, turning it on and hitting my favorite number in my contacts list.

 

“Sup, Angie?”

 

“Izzy,” I practically squealed, “come to the alleyway by the gas station. There’s something you **absolutely** _have_ to see.”

 

There was a long sigh, “can’t you just tell me over the phone?”

 

I pouted, “c’mon, where’s the fun in that? Besides, seeing is believing, and you’re definitely going to wanna see this.”

 

There was another sigh this time, but it was reluctant.“Fine, on my way. But this better not be another one of your dumb stories, Angie,” she teased.

 

“It’s not, I promise.”

 

“Righto, be there in a sec.” The line clicked dead and I grinned widely, leaning back in the chair. I couldn’t _wait_ to see her face when she saw what I found.

 

* * *

 

 

“Is that a lamborghini?”

 

“Noooo,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “It’s a 2016 Ford Fusion. Yes, it’s a motherfuckin’ lamborghini,” I snorted, stepping out of the car and gesturing grandly to it.

 

Meet my other best friend, Isabelle Rodriguez. She’s my age, and she’s a 5’3 Latina with a fiery temper, rich caramel eyes, and chocolate colored locks that were riddled with blonde streaks. Currently she was standing frozen, mouth agape in awe, in front of the lamborghini.

 

“Holy shit,” she gaped, walking forward to touch it. “Who does it belong to?” She questioned, looking at me.

 

I shrugged, “donno. I checked everywhere in that car and couldn’t find any sort of registration. My guess is that someone abandoned it.”

 

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” Isabelle looked at me as if I was stupid. “It’s a fucking lamborghini, Angelica, whoever owns this wouldn’t just ‘abandon’ it.”

 

“I’m not stupid,” I said flatly, crossing my arms. I knew it was an idiotic hope, but I really hoped it was an abandoned lamborghini so that it could be mine.

 

Isabelle pulled out her phone, “let’s take a picture of it, put it online, and see if anyone claims it.”

 

“And you called me ridiculous,” I muttered. “Anyone’s gonna claim it, it’s a fucking lamborghini. It’s hella expensive.”

 

“It can range from $530,075 and up,” she stated, staring at her screen. “It’s also a 2016 lamborghini aventador lp750 4 superveloce cost.”

 

“That’s very specific,” I blinked.

 

“I googled it,” she supplied with a shrug. “Okay, bad idea, I admit, let’s not list it online. Let’s just…... Check around online and see if anyone’s reported one as missing.”

 

I nodded, “but we can’t leave it here.” I couldn’t help the hint of hope creeping into my voice.

 

“Angelica, no.”

 

“Angelica, yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“C’mon Izzy,” I begged. “It looks shitty, lemme take it home and fix it up. Dad’s not gonna be home tonight - he’s going to some whore’s house to probably get laid and if not, get drunk, maybe even both.”

 

Isabelle sighed, “okay, but we gotta wait until it gets darker to move it.” She finally admitted, “but you might wanna get that gas can back to your dad, before he gets suspicious with your prolonged absence and tries to beat your ass.”

 

I nodded, “good thinking. I’ll be back later tonight when he’s gone.”

 

“You want me to babysit this car?”

 

“I was kinda hoping….” I said slowly.

 

Another exasperated sigh, “fine.”

 

“You’ll love it, it’s a beauty.” I grinned.

 

Isabelle tried to look irritated, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Just get outta here,” she whacked me lightly.

 

I jogged back down the alleyway, my spirits higher. I swiftly retrieved the gas can and began my now long journey home...Long because I wasn’t strong enough to carry the gas can back to my house for more than like thirty-seconds, before having to drop it and drag that sucker across crooked and annoying sidewalks.

 

As I got closer to home, my spirits dampened as reality started to set in. The sun had started dipping towards the horizon, and so dad was gonna be pissed that it took me so long. With luck he wouldn’t realize how much time had passed. That hope lifted my sense of dread, but only slightly. Either way, he was going to find a reason to be pissed off at me.

 

My house soon came into view, and for perhaps the millionth time, I was thankful for the fact that my house was pretty much on the outskirts of town and thus we had no neighbors. It would have been an odd sight indeed to see a 6’0, 17 year old girl struggling to get a metal gas can to her home, which looked as if it had seen better days.

 

The vibrant navy blue paint had since faded to a dull blue, cracking and peeling intermittently. Parts of the siding hung precariously, some of the shingles were tacked haphazardly on the roof, and the windows were outdated, looking ready to shatter at even the slightest wind gust.

 

The yard wasn’t in any better shape; everything was overgrown. The lawn hadn’t been trimmed in a long time, broken tree branches littered the yard, and random pieces of paper and abandoned beer cans lay scattered about. The only thing positive looking were the trees that were distributed at random intervals about the lawn.

 

I grimaced at the sight, and even more so as I trudged through to get to my front door. The porch sagged under my weight, and I got the feeling that I should work on replacing it sooner rather than later so I didn’t fall through at a later date.

 

Since dad had long removed the doorbell, and by removed I mean forcefully ripped from its socket, I had to knock. Several times.

 

Of course, he didn’t answer.

 

_I really should’ve asked for that key…_

 

“Dad?” I yelled, “dad, I’m home!”

 

The door screeched its objection as it was ripped open, nearly pulled off its hinges. My dad glared down at me, and I stared up at him with a hint of defiance.

 

“You’re late,” he growled, reaching down and ripping the gas can from my grasp.

 

“It’s heavy,” I answered flatly, crossing my arms.

 

“That’s no excuse,” he said, eyes narrowing distastefully as he took in my appearance. “Why do you dress like that? Put something decent on, you look like a slut.”

 

My lips pressed into a thin line. I should be used to this treatment by now, but his words still stung. “Oh you would know, wouldn’t you? You fuck a different one every night.”

 

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have said it.

 

But at that moment, everything that I had been so carefully holding in from this morning just spilled over before I could stop it.

 

As soon as the words flew out of my mouth, I flew to the ground. My cheek throbbed painfully from where he had backhanded me.

 

“Don’t fucking talk back, you little piece of shit.” He snarled, walking over and kicking me in the stomach for good measure. I groaned and instantly doubled over so that I was curled into a ball.

 

“Get up, you fucking drama queen.” He grabbed me by my right wrist and pulled harshly upwards.

 

“Stop it!” I cried out, struggling to escape his vice like grip. “You’re hurting me!!”

 

“I don’t care.” Another sharp tug on my wrist. “Get up.”

 

“Stop!” I sobbed, tears stinging my eyes as his fingers dig painfully into my wrist. “Please stop, dad, it hurts!”

 

There was a blow to my face and another swift kick to my stomach, forcing the oxygen from my lungs. I wheezed as he pulled upwards again, and I tried, failing to get to my feet. My efforts were rewarded with two more kicks to the stomach, and I tried to protect my head with my free hand as he attempted to hit me in the face once again.

 

“Weak,” I could hear him breathing heavily, meaning he was tired. That was new, usually it took him longer before he was tired of beating me to kingdom come.

 

He finally released my tortured wrist and I immediately collapse to the ground in a heap. “Pathetic.” Venom dripped from his voice. “Useless.” I hear his footsteps fade away as he takes the gas can to the garage.

 

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I struggle to get up, tears streaming down my face and gasping for breath. I fall twice more before I’m able to attain footing on the third try, shakily standing up.

 

Once I’m sure I can walk safely without instantly collapsing, I stumble into the house, wiping my tear streaked face, desperately trying to get to the stairs and to the sanctuary of my room.

 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

 

The furious voice stopped me in my tracks, “I-I’m just going up to my room to change like you told me to,” I stammered, slowly turning around to regard my father.

 

He didn’t say anything as he walked towards me, and I shrank away. His breath stank of alcohol as he leered over me.

 

_That explains why he got tired so quickly, he’s already fucking drunk and more than likely hasn’t taken a nap today._

 

“Give me your phone.”

 

W-what?”

 

“Give me your fucking phone.” He leaned forward, and I fell on my ass from trying to avoid close proximity. I fumbled for my phone out of my pocket, offering it up to him. He yanked it out of my grasp without another word, walked away from me into the kitchen. “Go get changed, you ungrateful shit.” He called back.

 

_He couldn’t resist making one more insult, could he?_

 

I winced, scrambling to my feet, pain shooting through my head. _I’m going to need to take a painkiller…_

 

I ran, to my best of my ability, up the stairs and into my room, closing the door and slumping against it.

 

Harsh sobs racked my body as the barrier that I had been using to keep the tears at bay finally broke.

 

_I can’t take this anymore._

 

I crawled to my small nightstand that sat by my bed, yanking the drawer open so fast I almost pulled it off its axles. I plucked out my pocket knife, flicking it open to the biggest blade that I had.

 

I stared at it, biting my lip harshly.

_I’m so sick of the pain,_

_Of the tears_

 

_Of just everything._

 

_God, why can’t it all just stop?_

 

Everything settled into my chest like a lead weight. My heart felt like it had fallen into the pit of my stomach.

 

_This isn’t how a dad should treat his daughter._

 

My eyes flicked up to the door, as if he was going to burst into the room to beat me again for even thinking such a thought about him.

I just wanted it all to stop.

 

I looked at the knife one final time, before I began a routine that I wished I could break.

 

* * *

 

 

“Angelica Hollis! Get your ass downstairs right now!”

 

My eyes shot open. _When did I pass out?_

 

I sluggishly pushed myself up to a sitting position, grasping at my bed to help me pull myself up the rest of the way.

 

“Angelica!”

 

“Comin’ dad,” I yelled half-heartedly, I froze as I realized I hadn’t changed yet. I yanked a baggy white t-shirt off the floor and shoved it over my head as I stumbled to the door and slowly opened it. My eyelids felt heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

 

“Angelica fucking Hollis, hurry your ass up!” The voice made me jump, adrenaline kickstarting, sleepiness wearing off as I picked up the pace.

 

In my rush, I slipped on the rug at the top of the stairs…...and instantaneously went catapulting down the stairs, going head over heels in a somersault.

 

Under different circumstances, this would be funny.

 

Correction: It was funny.

 

The downside: It only served to piss off my dad more.

 

“Fucking clumsy,” his voice dipped so low as he continued muttering that I couldn’t hear it. I sat there at the bottom of the steps, mildly dazed, giggling lightly. “Get up,” he grumbled.

 

I staggered to my feet, head throbbing.

 

_I forgot to take a painkiller._

 

_Shit._

 

“Go get dinner started,” he walked away from me, wandering into the living room.

 

 _Right._ I scurried quickly into the kitchen. “Anything particular you want?” I called.

 

“No.”

 

_Okay then…_

 

This was the worst part of making him dinner, he never gave me an answer.

 

Then, and here’s the funny part, he’d get pissed off when I didn’t make him exactly what he wanted.

 

Excuses to be more of an asshole to me, methinks.

 

I poked my head into the freezer, taking out a piece of chicken that was wrapped in plastic. “You’re getting chicken tonight then.” I muttered. I would eat later, when I didn’t have to deal with someone glaring at me hatefully.

 

I quickly got everything in order, turning the stove on high so that the chicken would cook faster as I dragged the milk carton from the fridge to pour him a glass of milk.

 

Fifteen minutes later, the chicken was done, and I rapidly put it on a plate, cutting it up just how he liked it.

 

I didn’t trust him enough to give him a knife, especially with his mood today.

 

Once I was sure I had everything to his satisfaction, I took the glass of milk and plate of chicken out to my dad, where he lay stretched on the couch, staring numbly at the TV.

 

As soon as he realized I was in the room, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if I had decided to poison his food. Oddly enough, he took his food without a word and didn’t make a comment entailing something along the lines of ‘this isn’t what I wanted’.

 

I silently exited the room, heading back to the kitchen to hide until he was done. I heard a faint buzzing noise sound from the cupboard.

 

 _Please don’t be another fucking bug stuck in there again._ I silently pleaded, approaching the cupboard cautiously as if whatever was inside might burst out and attack me. It’s not that I was afraid of bugs, I just really fucking hated them.

 

When I yanked open the cupboard door, I automatically took a step back to avoid having the potential bug fly into my face.

 

That didn’t prepare me for what I saw, though.

 

It was my phone.

 

I looked hurriedly back towards the direction of the living room but heard nothing but the TV and the occasional clinking of silverware. I turned back to my phone, snatching it quickly to see who texted me.

 

_“We still on for 2nite?”_

The text was from Isabelle. I sighed in relief.

 

 _“Yeah,”_ I typed back. _“Dad confiscated phone, but I’ll come to you as soon as he leaves.”_

 

The phone buzzed again as she texted back. _“Gr8”_

 

I glanced anxiously at the doorway before quickly deleting the three texts and returning my phone to its original spot. _What a weird place to put it._ I stared at the stove where the time blinked 5:30.

 

He wasn’t going to leave for another half an hour, unless his new toy thing tonight called him earlier.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

I jumped, whipping around to see my dad standing there, for once not glaring. “Checking the time,” I said lamely, unable to think of something else.

 

_He isn’t glaring._

 

It hit me like a brick.

 

_Wait, why?_

 

_His eyes…_

 

_Shit…._

 

He was looking at my wrists, and I quickly turned them so he couldn’t see them anymore.

 

“You couldn’t do that from sitting at the table?” He asked finally, walking over and putting his cup and plate into the sink for me to take care of.

 

I shrugged, slipping between him and the sink to start washing his dishes. Thankfully, he didn’t pursue the topic further, instead choosing to amble out of the room back to the living room.

 

However, before he exited the room, I heard a faint mutter of “attention whore”.

 

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

 

_That was close._

 

Excitement prodded at me, bubbling up like a fountain being turned on, despite the stress from the events of today.

 

I was finally going to be able to have a real look at the lamborghini, without fear of impending death courtesy of my father.

 

The trick was how to hide it.

 

Fortunately, I knew just the place.


	4. Chapter 3: To hide a lambo

Once dad left and I had eaten, I waited an extra half an hour in case he decided to come back.

 

I doubted he would, but…..better safe than sorry.

 

I contemplated bringing my cell phone with me, but decided against it. With my luck, I would forget to place it back where my father had hidden it, thus incenting more punishment upon myself.

 

So, I decided to leave my wallet home to avoid potential mugging as well…Yeah, I know I said that everyone in this damn town were loaded, but that didn’t stop the slums from out of town from creeping in at night and terrorizing the kids who made the mistake of walking home alone in the dark.

 

I had never been the victim of such an act. Sometimes there were pro’s to being the daughter of a psychotic ex-military drunk.

 

I slipped out the backdoor, ensuring that it was unlocked so I could get back in when I got back. I scurried to the front and went sprinting down the road towards town. Dad wasn’t due to be back for at least another three and a half hours, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.

 

By the time I reached the alleyway, I was wheezing and out of breath.

 

“Jesus, Angelica, you look like you just ran a marathon.” Isabelle launched to her feet from her seat on the alleyway pavement.

 

“Yeah,” I gasped, leaning against the wall. “I feel like it.”

 

“Why don’t you sit down?” A new voice asked.

 

I jerked, startled. “Who-” my eyes landed on James.

 

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Why-”

 

“I decided that you were gonna need a lil’ techy’ help with the car, considering neither one us know much about the inner workings.” Isabelle shrugged, idly texting on her phone.

 

I opened my mouth to protest, but clamped it shut at her warning look. She knew about the awkward unspoken tension between James and I, and often avoided the topic. But James was the only mechanic we knew who wouldn’t go blabbing his mouth off about a $530 some abandoned Lamborghini in an alleyway. “Good idea,” I said finally.

 

“So, that’s what he’s been up to for past three hours.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Uhhh, as far as I can tell, there’s nothing wrong. I’ve looked over all of it and uh, yeah. It’s in remarkably good condition, I don’t understand why the car’s so banged up, though.”

 

I shrugged, “dunno, but I’m going to see if I can’t fix it up.” I paused, “but, I need help getting it to my place.”

 

“Do you even have somewhere to put it?” Isabelle asked dubiously.

 

I gave her a mock expression of hurt. “Oh Izzy, I’m hurt that you would think that I wouldn’t plan ahead.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re putting it in **there**?” Isabelle demanded with an expression of disbelief.

 

“Yeah….” I said slowly. “Dad never goes in there anymore, he just tells me to do it.”

 

We stood in front of the shed that stood in my backyard; it was big enough to store a car as well as some smaller equipment. Strangely enough, it wasn't new, but it was the only thing on the property that didn’t look old, run-down, and ready to collapse at any given moment. The paint on the siding was a faded green, the shingles didn’t look new, but they didn’t look ancient either. The windows were all boarded up from the inside to keep prying eyes out, and the door was brand new….I had bought it three months ago after dad got pissed off and kicked it down. That was the last time he had been in the shed.

 

James shrugged from his spot in the car, “whatever works, Angie.”

 

“Let’s just get it in there before he gets back,” Isabelle said, showing me her phone screen. The time stood out in bold white colors, which read 8:20.

 

Turns out trying to smuggle a crappy looking red lamborghini to the outskirts of town was a lot harder than I thought. It certainly took longer as well.

 

I nodded. If dad saw the lamborghini, he’d sell it as fast as he could so he could blow all the money on alcohol and prostitutes, possibly drugs if he was feeling adventurous.

 

After an additional twenty minutes, we were able to successfully push the lamborghini into the shed through the big double doors that opened from the back of the building. We placed the lamborghini where it wasn’t too conspicuous.

 

By inconspicuous, I mean leaving it in the far back of the shed and throwing a giant blue tarp over it.

 

“Well, at least it’s not in plain sight.” I said, hands on my hips as we gazed at our handy work.

 

“Angelica,” James said slowly, “you can see it as you’re walking in.”

 

“Yes!” I exclaimed, “but you can’t tell it’s a lamborghini. It just looks like….like a blob.”

 

“Sure, Angie.” Muttered Isabelle, “it still looks shady though.”

 

I shrugged, “it’s the best I can do with what I have.”

 

They shared a mutual look of “what the fuck is wrong with her?” before looking back at me. I gave them a sheepish grin, as if it would convince them of my confidence in my plan.

 

“Well,” began Isabelle. “We better get going, g’luck with your lambo. Love ya.” She gave me a hug before strolling out of the shed. James lingered a moment longer.

 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” His green eyes wide with concern. I loved his eyes, it was like looking into the sea.

 

“Yeah,” I said softly, giving him a small smile.

 

He nodded hesitantly before he followed the same path Isabelle had taken, only turning back to give me a friendly wave as he slipped out the door.

 

I exhaled loudly as I watched him go, turning back around to look at the lamborghini. “You’d better be worth it,” I muttered as I too left the shed.

 

* * *

 

 

The headlights of the lamborghini flickered on briefly underneath the tarp, casting a blue light that danced eerily around the shed. The brightness only lasted a few moments, before the illumination dimmed as the shadows pounced, snuffling out the light.

 

Static abruptly crackled as the radio came to life and flipped through various stations, segments of songs and talk shows blurring together as the stations were rapidly changed. The sound was equivalent to someone running through a crowd of people that were interacting in assorted conversations, only catching snatches of chatter here and there.

 

There was another burst of static, and the wide collection of voices were silenced.

 

A single word, possibly a name, was broadcasted from the radio.

 

_Sunstreaker…_


	5. Chapter 4: Not again

I felt two strong hands grab both of my ankles, and I mentally cursed.

 

_Not again…_

 

My eyes flew open as I was roughly dragged off my bed, narrowly avoiding hitting my head on the metal bed frame. “Dad!” I yelped, “what the hell?!” I kicked my legs, trying to get him to let go.

 

He let go and took a step back to avoid my flailing legs, mostly because I was in prime position to kick him where the sun didn’t shine. “It’s time to get up,” he grunted before stalking out of the room.

 

“The _fuck_ ?” I muttered, clambering to my feet. “Most people get a normal wake-up call, but what do I get? A ‘lemme drag you out of bed and **then** tell you it’s time to get up’.” I grumbled, grabbing a pair of shorts that would stop at mid-thigh as well as a grey camisole from my drawers. I scurried to my bathroom in order to snatch a quick shower.

 

After I had gotten my shower, I hurried downstairs to make my dad and I breakfast. I settled for something simple that wouldn’t take long and would get me out of his sight faster: cinnamon toast. The choice was met with only mild complaining from my dad, and I noted that he looked pretty exhausted.

 

As I pretended to be completely enamored by cleaning the dishes, I pondered over the change in my dad’s attitude. It was one of his better days - probably his best day thus far.

 

It wasn’t natural.

 

Panic seized me suddenly as a new thought occurred.

 

_Had he found the lambo?_

 

_If he did, then it’s probably gone by now._

 

I hastily finished the dishes, gave an excuse. “I’m going to clean up the shed,” and scurried out the back door towards the shed. I cracked the door enough to slip through. I didn’t know for sure if he had found it, and I wasn’t about to give it away in my hurry to ensure that my hypothesis wasn’t right.

 

I heaved a sigh of relief, my hysteria washing away immediately.

 

The tarp covered lamborghini was still where I had left it last night. My barefeet padded softly towards it, and I threw back the tarp, taking a step back once I had done so. I had been so stressed out last night that I had forgotten to make a mental checklist of what supplies I was going to need to fix up the appearance.

 

“No time like the present,” I mused aloud.

 

I was going to need to figure out a way to replace the window.

 

_I’m sure James would be more than happy to assist._

 

Check.

 

I needed to obtain a buffer to buff out the dings.

 

_I’ll get that from James as well._

 

Check.

 

Last of all: I would need red paint to fix the awful looking paintjob.

 

All supplies I could get from James.

 

_Perfect._

 

My hand immediately went to my pocket, and I cursed.

 

 _Of course, the one time I_ **_actually_ ** _need it._

 

I groaned loudly, kicking a workbench, and of course, promptly recoiled. “Bad idea, bad idea.” I whined, hopping around on one leg like some sort of demented bird, grasping my foot.

 

I needed some sort of plan to get the supplies without using my phone to contact them, but I was screwed over because I had no valid excuse to go into town.

 

I couldn’t call him, and I couldn’t go visit him.

 

_Great._

 

“Why does this have to be so damn complicated?” I grumbled, stalking around the workshop. I ruffled through toolboxes as if by doing so, the needed materials would appear.

 

_BANG! BANG!_

 

I let out a screech as I whirled around to see the door shake as someone on the outside hit it again.

 

“Angelica!”

 

“Comin’!” I yelped, scrambling over to the lamborghini to toss the tarp back over it. I grimaced as I realized how conspicuous it looked. Another blow to the door shook me out of my thoughts as I dashed to the door, fumbling to undo the lock and yank it open. “Hey!” I said, brushing my hair out of my face.

 

My father narrowed his eyes at me as he took in my appearance, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. “I need you to go into town to get more gas.” I opened my mouth to respond, an expression of annoyance on my face. “I went through it last night because of drag racing.” He continued evenly, almost daring me to protest.

 

Instead, I clamped my mouth shut and nodded silently. He had participated in drag racing in the past, but my arms ached as a reminder of the heavy lifting I did yesterday.

 

On the bright side, that meant I had the perfect excuse to go into town **and** talk to James about the materials I needed. “Fine,” I said, sounding less than pleased. He lumbered away back towards the house, and I followed him after I had closed and locked the shed once again.

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty minutes later, due to another day with lack of traffic, I was back at the dingy little gas station, tramping through the doorway.

 

_It’s so weird, and kinda sketchy that no one is out and about._

 

Shaking that oh-so-pleasant thought off, I called out. “James!” As I entered the shop, my nose assaulted instantly by the stench of gas station foods. I fought off the urge to vomit.

 

He looked up from where he was standing, arranging merchandise on a shelf. “Hey Angie, long time no see.” He winked, but frowned as he noticed the gas can in my hand. “He needs more already?”

 

“Drag racing,” I supplied, handing it to him.

 

“Ah,” he took it, heading towards the back. I followed.

 

“Listen,” I began, “I need a favor - a couple actually.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, I need a buffer, some paint, and I need help replacing the window.”

 

He paused and I nearly bumped into him. He turned around to look at me, seeming to be considering it for a couple moments before he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll drop by tonight after your pops is outta the house. How’s that sound?”

 

“Great,” I beamed at him as he continued to the back of the store to refill the gas can.

 

* * *

 

At 6:30 P.M., James showed up with a large container that contained a package wrapped in bubble wrap, a buffer, and some new, shiny red paint. “Ready to get started?”

 

“Hell yes,” I grinned widely, directing him to follow me back to the shed.

 

Once we had entered the shed, he set down the container on the workbench nearest to the lamborghini. He dug the bubble wrapped package out and laid it out on the table, carefully unwrapping it.

 

“I’m gonna need your help in holding it while I reinstall it back into the lambo,” he directed, opening the driver’s door and delicately placing the glass in the window spot. I walked over and held it for him as he went about fixing it.

 

Moments later, he was giving me a crash course on how to use the buffer as well as how to apply the paint.

 

“That should cover it,” he stated as he finished, picking up his now empty container.

 

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll get these back to ya as soon as I can.”

 

He waved it off, “don’t bother. Those are the spares from the gas station, we won’t need ‘em back.”

 

I nodded slightly before leaning in and giving him an awkward hug. “See ya.”

 

“Bye,” he waved with a friendly grin before exiting the shed.

 

I sighed and looked back at the lamborghini. I would have to vacuum it out and wash it before I could do anything else.

 

I bit my lip, glancing from the lamborghini to the door, and back again. It was probably at least 7:20 by now, and I didn’t want to get caught up vacuuming out the car and getting caught by my dad because I didn’t hear him enter the shed.

 

It was highly unlikely that he would be home this early, but I wasn’t willing to take that chance. I walked up to the lamborghini and ran my hand over its hood with a soft sigh. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it yet.

 

_Maybe use it as some sort of bargaining chip to get into college?_

 

It was a possibility, but it wasn’t a guarantee.

 

_Sometimes you have to gamble to get results._

 

I started towards the door to outside, pausing to give the red lamborghini one last longing look. “Tomorrow,” I promised as I turned and walked out, locking the door behind me.

 

* * *

 

“Angelica fucking Hollis.”

 

The name was slurred and my blue eyes flew open in alarm.

 

I couldn’t see, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness of my room.

 

The air reeked of alcohol and I slowly became aware of heavy breathing, and it wasn’t my own.

 

“Oh no,” my voice a ghost of a whisper.

 

I could feel a strong hand on my right ankle.

 

_This isn’t happening._

 

I tried to deny it by screwing my eyes tightly shut, but I was still dragged roughly off my bed nonetheless.

 

_Not again._

 

I had gotten off easy this morning. I had a feeling this time I wouldn’t be so so lucky.

 

_So much for this being one of his good days._

 

My suspicions were confirmed after the thought had formed as the air was knocked from my lungs by several swift kicks to the gut. Gasping for breath, I barely heard the clinking of a buckle before I was struck in the arm with his belt.

 

I cried out in pain as I was whipped repeatedly with the offending leather, trying to squirm away whilst simultaneously attempting to protect my face, my arms crossed at the wrist.

 

That was a mistake.

 

He grasped my right wrist in an extremely tight grip, pain shooting up my arm.

 

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, trying to yank my wrist from his grasp, clawing at his arm with my other hand. My vision cleared for a moment and I noticed that he had, at some point, turned on the lights in my room. Everything was blurred out again as my sight was once again blocked by dancing stars as I was kicked in the stomach again.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. The leather let out a crack as he doubled his efforts to whip me with it, moving back and forth between my arms, legs, and torso.

 

I was honestly sick of this. I mean, who wouldn’t? Sometimes, he would come home drunk and beat the shit out of me. Other times? He would just beat the shit out of me ‘cuz he felt like it. Normally, I would just take it with minimal resistance, focusing more on defense, but this time…

 

I lashed out, kicking my legs as I had done this morning. I felt my left leg connect with something and my father cried out, releasing my wrist and stumbling backwards. There was a low snarl. Gauging from his reaction, I had just kicked him in the balls. I felt a small wave of satisfaction that I had inflicted some of the pain on him that he had been dealing to me.

 

“I’ll deal with you later.” Venom dripped from his voice as he turned and thumped out the room. Several moments later, I heard the front door being slammed shut and the tell tale noise of the car starting. I lay on the floor listening for several moments, trying to catch my breath, as I heard the engine rumble away.

 

There were going to be very serious consequences later, but I didn’t want to stick around to find out.

 

I rolled onto my right side, attempting to push myself up onto my hands and knees, crying out as my right wrist spasmed as soon as the tiniest bit of pressure was put upon it. I rolled back onto my back, clutching it with my other hand, trying to dispel the wave of nausea. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, it didn’t feel broken, but it was more than likely badly bruised.

 

I felt faint because the only signals that were shooting to my brain were those saying “Hey, stupid, your whole body is in agonizing pain because your dumbass got beat again”.

 

I felt like I was spinning, even though I was laying on the floor. My view blinked with spots, and I could feel the darkness seeping in as everything slowly turned blurry.

 

The last thing I saw was a figure, a man, with blonde hair looming over me. He seemed to be concerned, but I couldn’t make out much more about his features as it was blurred by my rapidly failing eyesight.

 

 _That’s weird._ He had two glowing, crystal-like blue eyes. _Human eyes don’t glow._

 

With that final thought, my vision finally turned pitch blank, and I knew no more.


	6. Chapter 5: So this is your car?

My eyelids fluttered open, and I groaned as sunlight that was reflected off my mirror bounced directly into my eyes. I put my hand up to cover my eyes as I sat up slowly, my muscles protesting with soreness.

 

I sigh softly, lowering my hand, blinking to adjust to the brightness of the room. I turned to look at the clock on my wall.

 

_July 1, 6:30 A.M._

 

I sighed again and ran a hand through my disastrous looking hair before clambering to my feet, leaning against my dresser. I had multiple bruises from the beating I had acquired last night, and my right wrist was an ugly shade of purple as well as being slightly swollen.

 

 _Great._ I thought grimly, pressing my lips into a tight line. I was going to have to ice that later….If I got around to it.

 

Memories of what transpired last night flashed before my eyes, and I squeezed them tightly shut to try to block it out.

 

_Pain shooting up my arm as fingers dug agonizingly into my wrist._

 

_The lashes of the leather striking my flesh, leaving stinging, glaring red marks._

 

_Glowing, concerned crystal blue eyes staring down at me._

 

I gasped and jerked out of the memories, grasping the dresser to remain steady. I struggled to steady my breathing and calm my racing heart.

 

_What was that?_

 

Had I imagined that unknown figure standing over me? A hallucination caused by the amount of pain I was in?

 

_Quite possible, but I haven’t the slightest clue._

 

All I knew now was that I would have to ponder more about it later. For now, I needed to find out where my father was at, and if I needed to enact the plan formulating in my mind ahead of schedule.

 

I changed into an old black t-shirt and wore the same mid-thigh ranged shorts. I would shower later, since I planned to be working on the lamborghini if all went well.

 

I darted downstairs, taking care to be relatively quiet as I stopped at the base of the steps. The stillness of the house was unnerving, and the quiet seemed to ring in my ears.

 

“Dad?” I called out nervously.

 

I was only greeted by silence.

 

Puzzled, I scoured the house for any sign of my father. His truck wasn’t in the driveway, nor was it in the garage. He wasn’t outside or upstairs, and he most certainly wasn’t on the ground floor.

 

He wasn’t here.

 

_That's strange. Normally he’s here in the mornings…_

 

I shrugged it off. I would worry about his lack of presence later. Right now, I had something else in mind.

 

I raced outside to the shed, hurriedly unlocking it, and skipped inside all the way to the car. I unlocked and threw open the giant doors of the shed behind the lamborghini to let some natural light in. The blue tarp was yanked off the car by me with a flourish, blue light dancing briefly around the room as the tarp fluttered through the air and settled upon the dusty concrete floor.

 

I scurried about the shed, gathering tools and cleaning supplies for the lamborghini as I got to work.

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, I took a step back to survey my hard work with pride. The red lamborghini was freshly vacuumed out, newly washed, the dents all buffered out, and the new paint positively gleaming under the morning sunlight.

 

It looked…

 

_Beautiful._

 

I knew I couldn’t dwell on the pleasing appearance of the car for long, but I allowed myself a moment to appreciate all the effort I had put into renovating it.

 

Sighing, I finally tore myself away from the sight of the car, sprinting to the house. I would have to hurry - I had no idea when dad was going to be back and I wanted to be long gone by then.

 

The clock in my room read 11:30 A.M. as I grabbed a fifteen minute shower, changing into a blue t-shirt, black knee-length shorts, and put on a black basketball themed sweatshirt. I scrambled about my room, packing clothing and other personal belongings into a suitcase. I was going to have to leave a lot of things behind, but it was worth it if I was getting out of this hell hole.

 

Honestly? I had been saving up money for the past three years.

 

I had tried this once before, when I was 15. But I never succeeded, mostly because I knew what I wanted to do, but the idea of actually doing it scared the hell outta me. I kept thinking about it, and eventually freaked myself out to the point that I lost the nerve to go through with it.

 

So this time, I kept busy, not allowing myself to dwell on what it was that I was doing.

 

I **had** to get out of here. I couldn’t deal with this anymore.

 

_If I stay, I’m going to kill myself._

 

_This is the only way._

 

I had to keep telling myself that as I carried my suitcase downstairs and headed into the kitchen to make some food for myself to eat for lunch whilst packing food to take with.

 

I made sure I had plenty of money in my wallet, and I had no qualms in taking money from my father’s room. Perhaps I should have felt guilty for taking something from my father, but, a girl’s gotta be prepared.

 

At this point it didn’t matter, considering all the shit that he had put me through.

 

I checked the cupboard. Thankfully, dad hadn’t moved my phone. I promptly pocketed it along with my wallet, gathering the rest of my provisions, and proceeded to haul it out to the lamborghini. Once I had gotten there, I set it down on the floor as I popped open the trunk, arching an eyebrow at what I saw.

 

It was very spacious, rather unusual for this type of car.

 

Maybe it was just the model of the lamborghini?

 

I shook my head. _Whatever, I don’t know shit about cars._

 

I shoved my suitcase and other provisions inside, pausing before closing it again. I glanced over at the buffer and extra red paint that I hadn’t used.

 

“Ah, what the hell?” I muttered, snatching both off the workbench and placing them in the trunk as well, closing it once I had done so.

 

_Never know when you might need it._

 

Besides, I didn’t want to leave any clues as to my method of escape.

 

I haltingly made my way to the driver’s door, cautiously opening it before slipping in. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly as I leaned back into the chair.

 

“You can do this,” I told myself, opening my eyes and reaching out to close the door. Since I didn’t have any keys for the vehicle, it was going to have to be hotwired.

 

James had taught me a long time ago how to hotwire cars, mostly because he had some free time and we were both bored. During that time, he also taught me to drive. Convenient, but  I mean, what else do you expect me to do when I live a life within’ parameters set by my oh-so-loving father?

 

Suffice to say, my dad doesn’t know I can do either of those things, but these skills were finally coming in handy.

 

My breathing was unsteady as the engine rumbled to life. My stomach flip flopping with excitement, I straightened in my chair and gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands.

 

“Time to get this show on the road.”

 

* * *

 

I had been driving for a very long time.

 

I wasn’t sure how long, but it was long enough that the sun had dipped below the horizon a great deal of time ago. My eyelids felt heavy and I could feel myself keep nodding off, each time I jerked upwards, shaking my head and blinking furiously in an attempt to wake myself up.

 

The highway I was on was less populated, fortunately, so I wouldn’t have to worry about running into any police officers. But it didn’t help with the fact that I was dead tired and trying to navigate a highway in the dark.

 

_It’s getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open, but I gotta keep moving…_

 

I couldn’t stop now, not while I was still this close to Queenstown. I had to get far away, out of state if I had to.

 

I stifled a yawn and stared hard at the road, struggling to make out road signs.

 

_I’m so tired…_

 

I blinked slowly several times, and despite my best efforts, my eyelids finally slid closed.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight was glaring against my closed eyelids, so I screwed them tightly shut, refusing to subject my eyes to the harshness of the invading light.

 

I was so warm and cozy....

 

I snuggled down into my seat more, sighing contentedly as I tried to go back to sleep.

 

_Wait a second…_

 

_Seat?_

 

I wasn’t in bed, and dad’s truck had never been this comfortable.

 

_Wasn’t I driving?!?_

 

It was as if I had suddenly been given a shot of pure adrenaline as my eyes snapped open and I jolted forward, being stopped by my seatbelt. If it wasn’t there, I probably would have flung myself into the dashboard.

 

_No steering wheel.._

 

I was sitting in the passenger's seat.

 

_How did I get over here? And more importantly, if I’m sitting here, then who’s driving?_

 

Panic seized me, and I almost didn’t want to look at the driver’s seat.

 

However, my curiosity won over relatively quickly, and I reluctantly twisted to look.

 

I’d like to say I handled the situation pretty well.

 

I did what any sane person would do.

 

I screamed.

 

Loudly.

 

It was reminiscent of a caged banshee.

 

I fumbled to unhook my seatbelt whilst grasping wildly at the door so that I could hurl myself out of the car once I had it opened.

 

“Calm down!” Yelped the caucasian male sitting in the driver’s seat. He glanced between me and the road, reaching out to stop me but I just shrieked again and struggled to get away from him. I couldn’t get the door open.

 

“Who the fuck are you?!” I demanded. The damn seat belt wouldn’t unhook either! Instead, it just seemed to tighten around my body, as if the car had a mind of its own and was attempting to keep me from struggling.

 

The question seemed to confuse him since he just opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he didn’t have an answer for it.

 

“This is my car,” he said finally.

 

I stopped struggling to narrow my eyes at him. He hadn’t answered my question, but I changed the subject. “How did you get in here?”

 

“You fell asleep at the wheel.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock. I mean why is this car not a totalled mess because obviously, if I had fallen asleep, I would have crashed.”

 

“Your foot came off the accelerator.” He explained, but he sounded a little unsure of it.

 

“Sure,” I said flatly.

 

He glanced at me but said nothing, and my attention was drawn to his eyes. Mainly since the sunlight that was streaming in through the windows seem to make his crystal blue eyes glow.

 

_Wait…_

 

I immediately did a double-take.

 

_Glowing?_

 

He looked like...

 

_Maybe it wasn’t a hallucination._

 

The man noticed my shaken expression. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” I frowned, still staring at him with wide-eyes at his stunning resemblance to the unknown figure.

 

Well, what I could see of the unknown figure, anyways.

 

How many people had crystal blue eyes that looked like they were glowing?

 

“Where are we going?” I asked slowly, as if saying the wrong thing might cause his calm demeanor to do a 180.

 

“Out of South Carolina,” he paused, “unless you’d like to stay here.” He added. "I noticed that you have some stuff in the trunk, so I assumed that you’re headed outta state, or at least outta town.”

 

I nodded silently, but internally I was making faces.

 

Who the fuck finds their long lost car with a random chick unconscious in the driver’s seat, and  thinks to check the trunk?

 

_People who are tryna make sure I’m not a drug lord or a wanted outlaw?I don’t fuckin’ know._

 

“My name’s Samson,” the man in the driver’s seat said finally, glancing at me. “Samson Stoll.”

 

I snorted, “so now you tell me your name. Couldn’t have led with that?”

 

The newly dubbed ‘Samson’ rolled his eyes, “I was trying to ease your….concern. This **is** my car.”

 

“Riiiiiiiight,” I replied, “and what makes you think I believe that? Anyone would claim ownership of a fucking lamborghini.”

 

Samson heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair, which was close shaven on the sides and longer on top. His roaming fingers disrupted the neat, combed look, and instead made it appear disorderly. “Primus, femme, must you be so difficult?”

 

“Primus? The hell is that? And yeah, I’ll be as difficult as I please.” I gave him a defiant expression.

 

He looked thoroughly exasperated, perhaps a little tired. “Would you mind at least telling me your name?”

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” I crossed my arms and stared straight ahead. “You didn’t tell me _your_ name straight off the bat.”

 

“Suit yourself,” he replied with a shrug, but a mischievous expression overtook his face, highlighting his slightly pronounced cheekbones. “Unless you’d like me to _give_ you a name.”

 

I made a face, “oh God. That would be so much worse.”

 

He smirked, “so?”

 

“Angelica Hollis,” I relented, turning my attention back to him.

 

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “You get called ‘Angel’ much?”

 

“No one’s called me that and lived.” I warned.

 

Samson grinned, “that’s good. I like a challenge,” he winked.

 

A sound of disgust emanated from my throat, and he started snickering.

 

“Alright, _Angelica_ , are you heading somewhere particular?” He asked once he had collected himself.

 

I shook my head, “not unless you want to drop me off somewhere to be rid of me.”

 

Samson shook his head, an amused smile crossing his face briefly. “Nah, I’m not that cruel.”

 

“What about you?” I questioned, turning so that I was facing him completely. “You said you were headed out of South Carolina, but you never specified where.”

 

He stared ahead at the road, as if he was concentrating hard on driving. He said nothing for several moments, his chiseled jaw setting in a grim expression, and I feared I wouldn’t get an answer. “I’m trying to find my brother.”

 

“Did you two get separated or…?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I quickly tried to amend them. “I mean, that’s none of my business, you don’t have to answer. But you could if you wanted to.” Samson arched an eyebrow and I fell silent, looking at my lap as embarrassment flooded me. I mentally kicked myself.

 

_Stupid… Can’t you just talk for once without fucking something up?_

 

Samson laughed. It was a deep, rich sound. “You’re not very good at conversation, are you?”

 

Heat rose in my cheeks as I fiddled with the ponytail on my wrist, and I was glad that my hair had fallen into my face so that he couldn’t see. In a way, his words had slightly pissed me off, mostly since I knew his statement to be true.

 

_So much for giving off the impression that you’re a confident, sassy badass._

 

“Hey,” he reached out and touched my arm gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

 _Oh,_ _hell_ _no._

 

Samson retracted his hand hastily when a gasp escaped my lips, and I recoiled violently as if I had been burned. A look of mild concern crossed his features, and I gave him a warning glare.

 

_Don’t._

 

He wisely changed the subject, but the confusion as well as concern that was plastered on his face did not dissipate. I pretended to take it as him being concerned for the well being of his brother. “We did get seperated, and I’m trying to find him. I’m worried that he’s hurt or in some sort of trouble, that’s why it’s so important to me.”

 

“That sucks,” I said lamely as I looked back at him.

 

He nodded, unsure of how to respond, and I directed my gaze back to the window.

_Maybe I should help him, I did have his car after all, and it probably delayed him…_

 

I frowned. _But it’s not my brother, and I don’t know this guy, so it’s not my problem, right? He shouldn’t have left his car out in the alleyway if he needed it to find his brother. Honestly, he’s lucky I found it and not someone else. He might not have even found it again._

 

_But I don’t know what to do…_

 

I sighed and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Do you know where you’re going to start in order to find your brother?”

 

Samson shrugged, “I dunno. I’ll go where it just...feels right.” He looked at me, “you probably don’t understand what I’m talking about.”

 

I shrugged. “What’s he like?”

 

“Vain, arrogant, an absolute pain the aft.” He smiled wistfully, “but he’s still my brother, and when you really get to know him… He’s a big teddy bear.”

 

“Rough exterior, soft interior, huh? Sounds like a real charmer.”

 

Samson snorted, “hardly.”

 

I rolled my eyes, deciding to change the subject. “So you really don’t know where you’re headed?”

 

“No,” I shook my head, “I’m just trying to get as far away from Queenstown as I can.”

 

He looked between me and the road several times, “why’s that?”

 

I shrugged, “nothing for me here. I need to start a life of my own, see if I can get into a college that has what I’m looking for. Then I’ll figure out my career from there.”

 

My answer was partially true - there was a little more to it than that, but he didn’t need to know about it. Especially since I had just met him roughly ten minutes ago.

 

Samson remained silent, as if he was mulling my answer over, attempting to decipher if it was the truth. “Alright, I feel like there’s another reason,” he glanced hurriedly at me, noting my guarded expression. “But it’s none of my business,” he finished rapidly. “If you want to talk about it-”

 

“I’m fine,” I said through grit teeth.

 

Samson frowned, but didn’t pursue the topic further, opting to stare intensely at the road.

 

I turned my head to stare out the passenger window. I didn’t need people prying into my life when they wouldn’t understand what it was that I was going through.

 

* * *

 

He wished he had led with an alias when asked about his identity.

 

He hadn’t thought fast enough, however, as he had been taken aback by her panicky reaction when she had first awoken.

 

Quite unlike him.

 

The prolonged distance from his twin was getting to him, he decided.

 

Sideswipe glanced over at the human femme with interest. She was quite unusual, and seemed rather guarded about her life in general. She also didn’t seem to know or even care where it was she was going as long as it was away from her hometown.

 

What is it that caused her to be like this?

 

His processor went over the events of the other night. When he had seen her, she had several red marks, possibly from some form of rope, and several areas of her body were beginning to bruise.

 

What were those marks from?

 

The femme had seen him - he was sure of it. He saw the brief moment of recognition cross her face before she appeared as if she had seen a ghost.

 

He could feel how tense she was, and he remembered how she had reacted when he had briefly touched her. It had been mildly concerning. He saw how her blood pressure spiked, breath hitching, eyes widening, and her entire body jerked away from him, almost as if…

 

He shook his head. No, that couldn’t be it.

 

She wasn’t afraid of him, was she?

 

Sideswipe frowned. Maybe she wasn’t afraid of him so much as she was afraid of what he might do to her.

 

Had someone abused her?

 

The answer seemed plausible enough considering he suspected that she was incapable of causing those marks by herself. It appeared as if someone might have been striking her.

 

But maybe she just didn’t like physical contact, or was uncomfortable when people demonstrated concern for her wellbeing.

 

He noted that she kept tugging at the end of her sleeves. She was wearing a sweatshirt afterall, so perhaps she was just cold.

 

His sensors showed that her body temperature was at the correct level, and she wasn’t shivering.

 

How strange…

 

He mentally scolded himself. He shouldn’t speculate so much, not when her actions in the past couple minutes might just be her personality, and not reactions due to a past occurrence.

 

Still, why had she left her dwelling in such a hurry, expeditiously gathering supplies to take with her?

 

She might have just been eager to leave, to start a new life somewhere else.

 

Or...

 

Or she might be running from something, or someone.

 

He decided that the second option was more plausible, seeing as she was indecisive of her final destination.

 

If that was the case, then whatever she may be running from, she was most likely terrified of.

 

He feared by traveling with him, she was going to discover another thing to dread.

 

_The Decepticons._

 

They were close, and he didn’t like it.

 

Sideswipe glanced warily at the femme, who seemed to be lost in her own little world.

 

Where could she go that she would be safe?

 

Would she even be safe from the Decepticons now that she had encountered him? Was that even enough to make her a target?

 

They were essentially in the middle of nowhere, and he sincerely doubted that she had many contacts outside of her hometown. If she did, she would have given him a location, or at least an approximation of where to take her.

 

She was stuck with him, whether she liked it or not.

 

He had to protect her for now, until he had a better idea of what may happen to her.

 

Optimus wouldn’t be pleased now that another human had fallen into the crossfire in the seemingly never-ending dispute between the two factions. But the femme remained blissfully unaware of the true situation, and he would have to find a safe area for her.

 

One where she would be safe from any potential harm.

 

Unfortunately, that meant he would have to find his brother as well as locate the Autobot base before he could safely relocate her.

 

It would be tricky…

 

_But by then, she might be identified as a target, and it will be too late…_

 

He shuddered.

 

It was his biggest concern, and he hoped it wouldn’t come true.


	7. Chapter 6: I almost get squished

“Angelica?”

 

Her eyelids fluttered open.

 

“What?” She mumbled, struggling to keep her eyes open, rubbing at them to get rid of the sleepiness.

 

“We’re at a gas station,” Sideswipe gestured to the store that was to their right as they were parked on the curb. “Do you need anything?”

 

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes momentarily. “Yeah, sure.” She said finally, opening her door and clambering out.

 

“I’m going to do a lap around the block,” He informed her and she waved him off.

 

_Right._

 

She probably thought he was attempting to get his bearings, which was only partly true.

 

The other reason was that a Decepticon was nearby.

 

He couldn’t quite pinpoint his location, but he was going to try to lead him away from her.

 

Why? Because his GPS kept glitching out as it was unaccustomed to the earth’s much different makeup than Cybertron.

 

_Fraggin’ slag of a fleshling planet._

 

Unfortunately, the ‘Con didn’t seem to want to take the bait as he saw no side of him as he drove aimlessly through the nature path.

 

_Where is he?_

 

Annoyed, and slightly frustrated, the Autobot decided to head back to Angelica’s position, silently praying to Primus that the ‘Con didn’t catch up with her before he did.

 

* * *

 

I strolled back out from the roadside gas station, bag full of necessities in hand.

 

Well, I wouldn’t quite say it was full of….necessities.

 

More of snacks.

 

I wasn’t sure how long this little venture with Samson was going to last, but I wanted to have something to snack on. He didn’t seem to eat anything, which I found strange, but I decided not to question him about it.

 

_Not me, so therefore, not my problem._

 

The sound of tires grinding on gravel snapped me from my thoughts as I turned to regard the black vehicle that had pulled up next to the gas pumps.

 

Which….Apparently wasn’t a vehicle at all.

 

A loud clang of metal and whirring of gears resonated as the vehicle morphed into a giant metal being with terrifying glowing, hateful red eyes.

 

I froze in shock. _What the fuck is that thing?_

 

Its head turned as it surveyed its surroundings, and dread slowly pooled into my stomach when its eyes landed on me.

 

Now, if I had any common sense, I’d turn and bust ass the other way. Regrettably, as it was, I was rooted to the spot in a sort of fascinated horror.

 

Sure, that thing was big as hell.

 

But it also looked kinda badass...Despite it being able to squish me without a second thought.

 

The robot slowly approached me, as if it had never seen anything like me before and was attempting to decipher if I was a potential threat or not.

 

 _Run._ Every single instinct screamed at me. _Just haul ass and fucking run, this thing radiates pure evil._

 

It was as if there was glue stuck on the bottom of my shoes, prohibiting me from moving anywhere.

 

It crouched in front of me, and sniffed disdainfully.

 

“Where is the Autobot?”

 

“Er...Auto-what?” I was fucking terrified, but I had never heard that term before.

 

My curiosity will be the death of me someday.

 

 _Whiiiiiccchh_ might be today, come to think of it.

 

Its eyes narrowed, “I saw you in that pit of a fleshling town, _human_.” It spoke as if the word “human” left a bad taste in its mouth.

 

“Hold up,” I said, frowning. “Bippity boppity back the fuck up.” It was his turn to frown, seeing as it sounded like a dude. “You were that asshole who came outta fuckin’ nowhere and almost hit me?”

 

_Piss off the giant evil robot, Angelica, ‘cuz that’s always a great plan._

 

He sneered, “you _humans_ are so weak, so easy to _kill_. Unfortunately, I need to locate the Autobot, and you know where to find him. So I will spare you, for now.”

 

“Okay, what the fuck is an Autobot? You can keep saying that word all you like, and I’m still not gonna know what it means.”

 

“You don’t have to. You have been traveling with one for some time. By my calculations, since you left that... _disgusting_ residence. Where is he?”

 

My legs finally regained their function as he leered over me, and I took a couple steps back. “Personal space, bud. Besides, I dunno where your little ‘Autobot’ friend went, ‘cuz I’m pretty sure I would know if I was traveling with a giant robot that looked as ugly as you.”

 

In hindsight, **not a great plan**.

 

He let out a snarl, and the dirt around me exploded upwards as he smashed the ground with his massive fists. I shrieked and covered my head, my actions resembling that of a freaked out turtle. “Can you not!?”

 

It’s not my fault I turn into a smartass when I’m scared for my fucking life.

 

Wait.

 

I’m just a smartass in general.

 

Eh, oh well.

 

“WHERE IS THE AUTOBOT?!” He bellowed, and I fell on my ass trying to get away from him.

 

“How the fuck should I know?” I yelled back, my voice sounding tiny in comparison. “You’re the first fucking giant robot I’ve seen in my entire life, so I don’t fucking know what guy you’re look for ‘cuz I sure as hell haven’t seen him!”

 

“You’re lying,” he growled as I rose shakily to my feet.

 

“Believe me, I wish I was.” I replied, trying and failing to keep my voice from wavering.

 

The ground abruptly got farther away from me as the robot lifted me up, grabbing me around my midsection. “Hey!” I yelped, “put me down!” My voice came out in a squeak as I pushed vainly at the hand I was currently encased in.

 

He raised me to eye level, glaring. “I will ask you one final time-”

 

“And I’ll inform you one final time,” I interrupted. “I. Don’t. Know. Where. The. Auto-freak. Is.”

 

I heard the familiar purr of an engine, and I craned my head to see.

 

_No, no, no, no. Samson has to get outta here he’ll get killed._

 

But before I could say anything, I was shocked into silence as their was another clang of metal and whirring of gears as the lamborghini turned into yet another fucking robot.

 

_Fuckin’ great. A second asshole to question me._

 

“Listen,” I began, “I have no idea where this Auto-guy that you’re looking for is at, so can I just go now?”

 

“Aw, don’t be like that. We were just beginning to get to know each other.”

 

_He sounded like Samson._

 

“What?” My voice was small.

 

As per usual, I was ignored.

 

“Let the squish go, ‘Con. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

 

The robot holding me starting shaking and making a noise I could only assume was laughter. “Very poor choice of words, little Autobot.”

 

Suddenly, I preferred it when the ground got farther away from me.

 

Seeing as right now it was rushing forwards to greet me, and turn me into a human pancake.

 

I screamed. Loudly. But I grunted as I came into contact with something metal, and oddly warm. Shocked, I looked up to see another robot with a red, white, and black color scheme.

 

“You okay, doll?” He drawled.

 

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, mouth agape, too far into shock to come up with a retort.

 

He grinned and I was deposited in front of the store doors. I became aware I was clutching my shopping bag in a death grip.

 

How I had not dropped it was beyond me.

 

“Now,” he spoke, turning to the other robot. “How about we settle this matter, bot-to-bot?”

 

The two lunged at each other, and the lamborghini quickly gained the upper hand. He delivered a swift blow to the evil robot’s face before doing a roundhouse kick, causing the other to stumble backwards.

 

The other robot, let’s just call him Evil, and the lamborghini, Imma just refer to him as Lambo.

 

Seeing as I haven’t the slightest fuckin’ clue if giant robots have names.

 

“Evil” so original, I know. But the guy’s hella creepy, so don’t judge me.

 

Evil snarled, his right arm turning into a giant metal sword which he immediately swung at Lambo’s head, who leaned backwards as if he was doing the limbo before grabbing Evil’s arm and twisting it to the side.

 

I mean, that has gotta hurt, because Evil retaliated by punching Lambo in the face a couple times with his free hand, and then shoving him away with his foot.

 

The lamborghini laughed, wiping his mouth, which had begun to leak a blue liquid substance. “Is that all you got, ‘Con?”

 

“Be careful what you wish for, little Autobot.” Evil leapt forwards, catching his opponent off guard, picked him up, and threw him discus style; whom of which was sent flying across the dirt parking lot, and went rolling. Evil glanced down at me again, where I was huddled against the store doors, afraid to enter in case one of them squished the building.

 

I did not want to get stuck in a squashed building, thank you very much.

 

“You have outlived your usefulness,” he rumbled, his left hand transforming into a gigantic gun. It let out a high pitch whine as it began to charge up, but it died instantly as Evil was tackled by Lambo, who had apparently recovered from his flight.

 

Evil regained his footing and took another stab at his enemy with his sword, but as it was, Lambo also had the ability to morph his arm into a sword at will. The two fought for sword dominance, pressing hard into the other whilst locking their free hands together, each attempting to overpower the other.

 

Eventually, Lambo must’ve gotten bored with the predicament because his smile (Who the fuck wears a smile when fighting for their life?) vanished from his face and he kicked Evil, who stumbled backwards a couple steps.

 

Seriously, what was with them kicking each other backwards to gain space? Just shove the fucker.

 

Evil regained his balance and looked up just in time to see his precious sword arm get sliced off.

 

There was a scream of outrage and pain, and several birds abandoned their roosts in the nearby trees.

 

As if they were thinking. _Nope, fuck this shit I’m out, I don’t want to deal with angry colossal robots. No way, bye Felicia!_

 

Evil stumbled a few more feet backwards, hissing and grasping his stub of an arm, which was leaking some more blue fluid. “This is not the end, little Autobot,” he rasped.

 

“You’re right, it’s not.” Replied Lambo cooly. “So let’s make it the end, shall we?” He took out a giant gun seemingly out of thin air and pointed it at the other robot, whose eyes widened in alarm just as the lamborghini pulled the trigger.

 

There was a loud thump and the ground shook as Evil collapsed to his knees and fell face first into the dirt.

 

The victor decided to turn his attention to me, cautiously approaching me before kneeling down. I leaned back as far as I could, trying to make myself smaller, as if it might repel the giant robot looming over me.

 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” his attempt at reassuring me failed miserably.

 

“Where’s Samson?” My voice shook pitifully. The robot looked human enough with its features and whatnot, but the fact that it was a gigantic metal, quite possibly alien, robot kind of negated it.

 

“Erm…” He frowned, “yeah, uh, he’s not a separate person.” I knit my eyebrows together in confusion. “What I mean to say is that he’s me - he-er-I-er… It’s my holoform.”

 

“Holo-what now?”

 

The robot made a face of annoyance. “Listen, fleshy, can we finish the Q&A later? There are more Decepticons headed this way and I’d prefer not to be here when they arrive.”

 

“No,” I said, standing up on legs that felt like jello. “No, you’re going to answer my questions now. Who are you? What are you? Who was that guy? And what the hell is going on here?!”

 

The robot huffed in frustration. “I promise I’ll answer all your questions later, now can we please go?”

 

“No,” I responded, shaking my head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

 

“You’ve been seen with me, you saw how that ‘Con reacted.” The robot pointed to his fallen foe. “The next one isn’t going to be as gentle, and if I leave without you, I won’t be around to save you the next time they find you!”

 

“You wouldn’t have had to save me had you not dragged me into this mess!” I glared, crossing my arms. “You could’ve fucking been up front about this shit so that I didn’t have to get involved!

 

The robot narrowed its eyes dangerously, “there are a couple things wrong with that statement. First of all, would you have believed me if I didn’t transform as proof? Secondly, transforming would give away my position to the ‘Cons and quite possibly endanger even more humans. Don’t be selfish, Angelica.”

 

“Well maybe for once in my fucking life, I want to be selfish. Did you ever fucking think about that?”

 

“All you humans are the same,” he muttered, looking as if he was struggling to maintain his cool composure. “You need to come with me, you’re in danger. The ‘Cons won’t care if you’re not traveling with me anymore or not. They’ll still believe that you have ties to me and therefore to my location.”

 

“What the hell?” I protested. “I didn’t fucking ask for this shit!”

 

“None of us did,” he growled back. “But that’s the world we live in.” He straightened to his full height and transformed back into the lamborghini. The passenger door opened, the meaning clear.

 

_This discussion is over, get in the fucking car._

 

Stay and die? Or live for now, possibly die later, and go with the giant robot?

 

_Doesn’t seem like much of a choice._

 

I sighed, running a hand through my now filthy hair.

`

“Fuck it.”

 

I climbed into the car, and we sped away.


	8. Chapter 7: Of shadows and red eyes

“I take it the mission was failure,” a voice rumbled off somewhere near the shadows in the entrance to the medical bay.

 

“Affirmative,” a shiny red mech stepped away from a console, what were presumingly life signs blinked steadily upon the display. “It’s a miracle he’s still functioning.”

 

“He assured us that he would be perfectly able to handle the Autobot.” The disdain in the hidden figures voice was unmistakable, and their glowing red eyes narrowed.

 

A sigh, “yes, well, apparently not.” He tinkered with a cable that was attached to the unconscious mech laying on the berth.

 

“What was his condition upon arrival?” The voice finally stepped out into the lighting of the medical bay, revealing a sleek, white and red jet.

 

“Not good,” seeming satisfied that the cable was secure, the mech turned to regard the jet. “Patrol found him missing his right arm, and the shot just _barely_ missed his spark chamber.”

 

The jet arched an optic ridge, “lucky.”

 

“Extremely.”

 

“And what of the Autobot? Do we have a positive identification of their identity?”

 

“None yet, but I can check his drives to see if the data was corrupted or not...With this kind of damage-”

 

“Then get to it, _doctor_. Lord Megatron will not be pleased with further delays.” The jet leered towards him, an unspoken promise that he would pay in some form or another if he failed to complete his task in a timely manner. The red mech suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Lord Megatron would do to his newly rebuffed finish.

 

“Of course, Commander Starscream.” A hint of sarcasm laced his words as he gave the jet a two fingered salute, turning back to his patient, waiting for the telltale whoosh of air to indicate the door had closed again.

 

“Alright, Grandswitch, let’s see what you’ve got for us.” The mech muttered, setting to work.

 

* * *

 

When Grandswitch onlined, he hesitated to activate his optics, instead choosing to reboot his audio receptors.

 

No point in letting the Autobot, if he was even still there, know he was back online so soon and ruin any sort of element of surprise.

 

There were footfalls just to his right, and he heard them get closer and closer until they stopped.

 

He heard the figure lean over him, and that’s when he struck.

 

“What the - Grandswitch! It’s me!”

 

His optics focused just in time to stop himself from spearing a red mech through the neck with his sword. He let go of the doctor abruptly. “How did I get here?”

 

“What? No ‘Thanks for repairing me, Knockout, and keeping me from dying since I specifically promised Lord Megatron that I would be able to handle the Autobot easily’?” The other mech’s voice rose with every word as he glared, crossing his arms. “What were you thinking?!”

 

“I was _thinking_ that since the Autobot is unaccustomed to this planet that he would be more vulnerable.” Grandswitch defended, shoving the medic backwards as he twisted to get off the berth, disconnecting the cable from his chest plating. He rolled his shoulders, door wings fluttering slightly to relieve the ache of being trapped in one position for so long.

 

“Not so fast. As soon as you walk out that door, there is nothing to stop Lord Megatron from scrapping you!” Knockout clenched his fists in emphasis. “And I don’t want to waste any more resources on something that could easily be avoided!”

 

Grandswitch regarded him coolly, “and I suppose you want me to delay giving Lord Megatron my report on the mission?”

 

“Do you even have anything to report?” Countered Knockout, optics narrowing dangerously. “That Autobot’s shot may have missed your spark chamber but it fried your drives. I couldn’t get anything comprehensible out of there!”

 

“Did you check the backups?” He asked quietly.

 

Knockout looked startled, “when did you-”

 

“You didn’t seriously think that I hadn’t had backup drives implanted during the beginning of the war for exactly this reason, did you?”

 

“Well, no! Of course not!” Sputtered Knockout, fumbling for an excuse, but Grandswitch silenced him with a look.

 

“Now if you’re quite finished, I am heading to the bridge to give Lord Megatron my report.” Grandswitch rose from the berth, striding towards the door, frowning when he heard footfalls behind him.

 

“I’m coming with you,” muttered Knockout, walking in front of him. “Maybe I can convince Lord Megatron that if he insists on scrapping you that he ensures that you no longer function afterwards. Hopefully, there’ll be enough of you left for spare parts.”

 

* * *

 

“You said there was a human with this Autobot? This….Sideswipe?”

 

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” he responded, door wings hiked up high on his back in anxiety.

 

“Well?” Megatron turned around impatiently to regard Grandswitch with narrowed optics. “Did you terminate the Autobot’s pet?”

 

“I…did my best to, Lord Megatron. I was thwarted by the Autobot before I could carry out its execution.” Grandswitch took a step backwards, as a precaution, as he eyed the fusion cannon on Megatron’s arm wearily.

 

The warlord looked like he was struggling not to murder Grandswitch where he stood. “WHAT?!?” He took a step towards Grandswitch, who hastily moved backwards a few more paces. “You said that you would be able to eradicate both without an issue!”

 

“So I believed, my Lord.” Grandswitch hurriedly bowed, “I had not taken the fact that the Autobot may be more accustomed to this world than previously assumed into consideration.”

 

Megatron raised his fusion cannon, feeling a slight rush of satisfaction at the sight of Grandswitch noticeably flinching away, door wings lowered, looking like a cornered animal.

 

“Lord Megatron,” Knockout stepped forward, but not in between Megatron and Grandswitch. “If I may -” his optics flickered nervously to the cannon. “The mission failure was not entirely Grandswitch’s fault. It may also have been due to lack of accurate intelligence.” He pointedly glanced at a nearby vehicon.

 

Megatron followed his gaze, mulling over the reason given to him by his chief medical officer. “Very well,” he rumbled finally, lowering his arm, much to the relief of both soldiers. “But I will not tolerate further failure, Grandswitch. This is your first and **final** warning.”

 

“Of course, Lord Megatron, it won’t happen again.” His door wings relaxed a bit, returning to their normal position. It seemed as if Megatron was feeling more merciful than normal this solar cycle.

 

“See to it that it doesn’t,” Megatron turned away, clasping his servos behind his back as he gazed out the view screen of the _Nemesis_.

 

Grandswitch shot Knockout a brief grateful look before both bid a hasty retreat from the bridge.

 

That was close.

 

_Too close._

 

* * *

 

_“No - no, get off! Leave me alone!”_

 

My eyes shot open as I jerked awake, freezing in place as I was realize I was in a chair that was reclined.

 

_Where am I?_

 

I lay there in a stunned terror until the memories of what had happened over the last day or so came flooding back.

 

_A giant robot._

 

_I’m inside of a giant robot._

 

_Great._

 

I slowly sat up, struggling to get my breathing back under control.

 

_It was just a nightmare, you’re fine. You’re okay._

 

His crystal blue eyes looked over at me in concern.

 

“I’m fine,” I blurted out before he could say anything.

 

God, I was so fucking tired.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“9:30 P.M.” He responded, purposely avoiding my eyes now.

 

I nodded, regarding him with a curious expression.

 

I had questions, but it didn’t seem the right time to ask.

 

So I went with one that would require less explaining.

 

“What’s your actual name? It’s not Samson is it? Do giant robots have human names?”

 

He chuckled softly, “no, my name’s not ‘Samson’.” He spared a glance at me, “it’s Sideswipe.”

 

“Sideswipe,” the name seemed to roll off my tongue. “Don’t hear that one every day.”

 

“No,” he murmured, “no, you don’t.”

 

If alien robots could be tired, he most certainly looked like it.

 

He noticed my stare, “get some recharge.”

 

_Recharge?_

 

_Oh, sleep..Right._

 

I didn’t protest, I still felt exhausted.

 

As I lay back into the reclined passenger seat, I heard him mutter lowly. “You’ve been through a lot.”

 

Maybe.

 

_But he doesn’t know the half of it._

 

I slowly slipped back into a restless slumber, one phrase echoing over and over in my mind.

 

_“You have outlived your usefulness.”_


	9. Chapter 8: Cold

He was cold

 

So cold.

 

No one would think that his kind would be able to feel such a thing.

 

But here he was.

 

Curled up in a corner.

 

Trying to preserve the heat that seemed to slowly be sucked away from him by something evil.

 

Something hungry.

 

It seemed to be seeping into his frame, freezing wires, clawing eagerly at his spark chamber.

 

To top it off, he couldn’t see anything.

 

Why was everything so dark?

 

Why was he so cold?

 

Some sort of Decepticon tactic, no doubt.

 

A manipulation of the environment, designed to cause the occupant to go insane.

 

What could be worse than being completely isolated and trapped in the dark in a small cell? The fact that his one comfort was gone.

 

He couldn’t even feel his twin, and his spark fluttered painfully.

 

_My twin._

 

_My brother._

 

 **Why** couldn’t he feel him?

 

Why were they torturing him so?

 

He understood the beatings.

 

He understood being locked away in a cell, in the dark, and by himself.

 

But with his spark bond, he was never truly alone.

 

How were they blocking it?

 

It seemed an impossible endeavor.

 

But the Decepticons were always full of surprises.

 

He shifted slightly, drawing his legs closer to his chassis.

 

He didn’t know how much longer he could keep on like this.

 

His navy blue optics scanned the inky blackness of the room in vain.

 

In search of some source of light.

 

As if the light itself could provide him the hope that he seemed to severely lacking.

 

The light from his optics did nothing to penetrate the gloom, and he shivered.

 

Cold.

 

Devoid of light.

 

Cut off from his twin.

 

What kind of pit was this?

 

He needed his brother.

 

He needed to get out of here.

 

_How much longer can I last?_

 

Was this their goal?

 

Keep him isolated, and see how long it would take for him to break?

 

To spill the secrets that he had sworn on his spark to protect?

 

He would never give them any information.

 

But he did not know how long he would be able to hold on.

 

It seemed so easy to just...let go.

 

To slip away.

 

Join the allspark.

 

Enter a reprieve from this hellish state.

 

_Sideswipe needs me._

 

How many times had he told himself that?

 

Too many times.

 

Far too many.

 

He had lost count of the exact number.

 

It seemed to have lost its affect on him as well.

 

He loved his brother, but he didn’t know how…

 

How could he hold on?

 

Did he even really want to?

 

There was that feeling again.

 

Despair.

 

It seemed to be all he could feel as of late.

 

Trapped someplace, where the Autobots would never find him.

 

Were they even looking anymore?

 

Did they even care?

 

Did _his brother_ even care?

 

_So cold…_

 

A shudder, forcing himself further into the corner.

 

An odd feeling slowly bloomed in his spark chamber, and a mix of dread and peace took over.

 

An odd combination.

 

Was this it?

 

Finally?

 

_Sunny?_

 

His spark practically exploded from happiness as his brother showered him with affection.

 

He didn’t even reprimand his brother for uttering a name he pretended to loathe.

 

_Sideswipe?_

 

It seemed to good to be true.

 

_Sunstreaker where are you?!_

 

_I...I don’t know._

 

_What? Nevermind that for right now. How...How are you doing? What’s going on?_

 

_Sides…_

 

He needn’t say anything, his feelings over the bond were clear.

 

_Sunny, what’s going on?_

 

He could hear the fear in his brother’s voice. The concern.

 

His brother pushed more warmth over the bond, and Sunstreaker could feel the cold feeling in his spark chamber seeping away, over the bond, towards his brother.

 

Sideswipe was trying to counteract it, by taking on Sunstreaker’s burden and giving warmth in exchange.

 

Sunstreaker’s spirits lifted slightly.

 

_I’ll find you. I’m looking for you. I won’t let you stay wherever the pit you are._

 

Sunstreaker shook his helm. _You won’t be able to. I have no idea where the ‘Cons are holding me._

 

 _Do I look like I give a frag?_ A particular painful pulse of the spark, and Sunstreaker felt his brother’s misery. _I’ll find your dumb aft, even if it kills me._

 

It was obvious that the distance was affecting Sideswipe as much as it was him.

 

Perhaps even more so.

 

 _I_ **_will_ ** _find you Sunny. I haven’t met up with Prime or the others but I promise you that they’re still looking, they haven’t given up._

 

If only it felt like that…

 

_Hey..._

 

 _You don’t need to say anything._ Sunstreaker’s voice was barely a whisper through the bond.

 

 _Eh, well, you know me. Can’t keep my mouth shut._ He could practically feel Sideswipe’s cheeky grin. _I love you, bro. I’m coming for ya, don’t give up._

 

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics briefly, reveling in the love and warmth emanating from his brother over the bond. Something told him that their time was growing short.

 

 _Don’t get killed._ It was his only reply. Gruff, seemingly cold shouldered, but both brothers knew it meant far more than that.

 

 _Of course I’m not gonna get killed. Who else would be around to annoy your vain aft?_ A smile, one last pulse of love, and the feelings faded away.

 

The cold surged forward, hungry; as if ready to devour his newfound hope.

 

“No,” he said quietly to no one in particular, glaring into the gloom.

 

The cold seemed to shrink away from him, as if deciding that perhaps to engage him now wasn’t the wisest course of action.

 

Sunstreaker sat there, his mental state far more improved than it had been given that he had finally been able to speak with his twin.

 

He didn’t know how Sideswipe had finally been able to penetrate the Decepticon prison, but he was immensely thankful.

 

A small hope twinged, and he was unable to squash it.

 

Maybe this unfortunate circumstance wouldn’t last as long as he feared after all.

* * *

**Special thanks to a guest and @apoxyBlues for the kudos as well as @Skyress98 for the bookmark! I greatly appreciate it! ♥**


	10. Chapter 9: Answers

“So?” I asked quietly.

 

Sideswipe spared me a glance, “what?” He looked distracted, and I followed his gaze out the window. We were on a backroad so as to avoid running into the general populace, and I didn’t see any suspicious looking cars, robots or otherwise.

 

_ So something else then. _

 

I’d focus on Sideswipe’s personal issues later. Right now, I needed my answers.

 

“What are you, exactly?”

 

“An Autobot, I come from the planet Cybertron.” He spared me another glance, “the guy we ran into back there was a Decepticon. We’ve been fighting for millions of years, and your planet has fallen into the middle of this never ending war.”

 

“Peachy,” I muttered.”So why doesn’t everyone know about your existence and why can’t you just leave me any old place without creepy showing up?”

 

“It’s a closely guarded secret - your government knows of our existence, but doesn’t inform the general public so that there aren’t widespread episodes of panicking.” He sighed, “as for the Decepticons not leaving you alone, it’s because they think any humans that have been in proximity of us are connected to us and automatically have information to our whereabouts.”

 

“So now I won’t be able to lead any sort of normal life?” My voice came out sounding more lost than I would have liked it to be.

 

Sideswipe said nothing, setting his jaw in a grim expression as he continued to stare straight ahead.

 

_ I’ll take that as a yes. _

 

“So what am I going to do now?” There was no mistaking the bitterness in my voice.

 

“The only thing you can do,” he replied, still not looking at me. “I’m taking you with me back to base where one of the human agents will be able to set you up with a new identity and protection.”

 

My shoulders sagged, “so I won’t be able to ever see my friends again?”

 

This time his eyes flicked over to me with a troubled look, “I’m….not sure.”

 

I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket to stare at the screen wistfully, yelping as the car lurched suddenly. The door flew open and I fell out as Sideswipe rapidly transformed. “What the hell?”

 

His eyes were locked on the phone clutched in my hand, “no phones.” He broke his gaze to look anxiously around us, as if frightened that someone had seen him transform back into robot mode.

 

That, or looking for some sort of threat.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Decepticons can track it,” he looked extremely uneasy. “Don’t use it unless absolutely necessary.”

 

“And what would qualify as ‘absolutely necessary’?”

 

“Immediate death.”

 

“Naturally,” I responded dryly.

He hesitated for a moment, studying me, before transforming back into a car. I climbed carefully back in, as if I was stepping on a bunch of eggshells. This time, however, he didn’t activate his hologram.

 

Probably was sick of looking like a human.

 

We sat in silence for a long time, before I finally had gathered enough courage to ask some of the question that were burning most in my mind.

 

“Why did you guys come to earth then, if you can’t get all of humanity involved?”

 

“You can thank the Decepticons for that,” his voice resounded from the radio.

 

“Right, everything’s the Decepticons’ fault.” I crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice had taken on a new tone, defensive, maybe even slightly hostile.

 

“How do I even know that you ‘Autobots’ are even the good guys?”

 

I’m sure it took all of his self restraint not to transform and dump my ass on the road again in order to let me see his full fury.

 

“Well let’s see,” his voice was suddenly very cold. “A Decepticon tried to kill you to find me-”

 

“And I’m sure you wouldn’t have done the same?”

 

“I wouldn’t have, that’s-”

 

“Yet you were fully willing to kill that Decepticon when we didn’t even find out what the hell he even wanted.”

 

“He  **wanted** to kill me, he’s-”

 

“So, it’s all about you?” The truth is, I knew that the other robot would’ve killed me, but I was curious that if I pushed him far enough, that he would resort to the same methods as this ‘Decepticon’.

“If it was all about  _ me _ ,” I could hear him grinding his teeth…Or at least whatever the robot equivalent was. “I wouldn’t have saved you, and you would be a  _ human pancake _ .”

 

Damn, good point.

 

“So what? You guys came to earth, humans die all the time. What’s a few more?”

 

“Are you going to actually let me explain, or are you going to cut me off again?” He asked stiffly, and I could practically hear him swallowing his own anger.

 

“Go ahead,” I waved my hand dismissively.

 

“Decepticons have pledged themselves to wipe out all organic forms of life, believing that the species will eventually attack Cybertronians. So they have made it part of their mission to get rid of you fleshies.”

 

“Kill or be killed,” I murmured. 

 

“Exactly. As for why we’re here...Our planet was dying, so we had to evacuate. Unfortunately, the Decepticons followed us across the stars until we ended up on this mudball. Due to the constant fighting, we couldn’t keep our existence completely hidden from the inhabitants of your world, and so we do our best to be robots in disguise while trying to keep ‘Cons from killing all humans on earth.”

 

“Great,” I said, “just what we need, More wars, as if we don’t have enough already.”

 

“We’ve been fighting for 4 million years,” he replied flatly, “and your earth hasn’t even achieved our level of technology yet despite existing for a little over that time.”

 

“And that invalidates us how?”

 

“I never said-”

 

“Whatever,” I waved my hand dismissively at him.

 

“Primus, femme,” exasperation was heavy, and I vaguely wondered how he had kept his anger in check thus far.

 

_ Probably lots of practice. _

 

He let the subject drop, perhaps to avoid further conflict. Honestly, I hadn’t meant for it to escalate that far, but snarky comments just seemed to slip out of my mouth before I could stop them.

 

He would get over it.

 

...I hoped.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Ping! _

 

The noise jolted the figure behind a large desk out of the statistics he was lost in. Wordlessly, he tapped the button located on his desk that would give the command to the door to allow the requestor entrance.

 

A moment later, a datapad was plopped unceremoniously in front of him, and the figure looked up with an arched optic ridge to regard the new arrival.

 

Naturally, the only ‘bot with enough guts to do such a thing was the Polyhexian now making himself at home by sitting on the desk.

 

“Jazz.”

 

“Prowler,” the Special Ops ‘bot drawled.

 

“You do realize that deliveries of data pads, especially those that contain assignments that were not given to you to complete, are far below your level of expertise?”

 

Jazz shrugged, unconcerned.

 

Prowl picked up the datapad, eyeing it cautiously for a moment as if by touching it would activate a prank. “I’m assuming you’ve already-”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then for you to be delivering it-”

 

“Yep.”

 

A sense of dread filled the Praxian as he scrolled through the contents, door wings raising slightly on his back. When finished, he silently lowered the datapad, noticing Jazz’s concerned gaze.

 

“Has Prime been informed yet?”

 

“No, I thought you’d want to read it first.”

 

“Very well,” he replied, rising from his seat, servos gripping the datapad tightly, the only indication of his true mood.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do we know where they are?”

 

The question had greeted them as soon as they had stepped into the office, and now hung menacingly in the air.

 

“Not yet,” Jazz shared an uneasy glance with Prowl. “But our intelligence has an idea of where.”

 

Prowl stepped forward, offering the datapad to Prime. The room was silent for several moments as their leader stared intently at the information scrolling across the screen before he returned the datapad to Prowl.

 

When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with melancholy.

 

“Captured?”

 

“We still don’t know the exact location, but we’re working on it. As for Sideswipe, it seems  he’s finding his way back on his own. We won’t be able to contact him until he’s out of Decepticon territory,” replied Jazz.

 

“Any sort of attempt before then would alert the Decepticons to his exact coordinates and place him in more immediate danger,” continued Prowl, giving Jazz a sour expression for not explaining the data completely, who in return gave him a cheeky grin.

 

Optimus Prime nodded, and the two noticed how drained he seemed to appear.

 

“You okay, O.P.?” The inquiry came from Jazz.

 

“Yes, old friend. I’m afraid recharging has not come easy as of late.”

 

“Perhaps you should consult Ratchet,” offered Prowl.

 

It came off as a suggestion, but all of the ‘bots in the room knew that if Optimus didn’t reach out to Ratchet, either Jazz or Prowl would.

 

“Perhaps,” the Prime’s optics dimmed briefly. 

 

“We’ll keep you informed, Optimus - and we  **_will_ ** find them.” Jazz assured him. Once Prime gave them a final nod, the duo saw fit to exit the office.

 

Only when they were safely out of of sight and audio receptor range did Jazz speak once again.

 

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find them when where they’re at is crawling with ‘Cons?”

 

Prowl nodded wordlessly.

 

The Polyhexian stopped in his tracks, and Prowl did as well. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

 

Prowl hesitated, optics wandering to observe the hallway that was occupied solely by them. “My only concern is that there won’t be much left for us to find.”

 

“You feel guilty?”

 

“I was the one who cleared them for that mission despite Ratchet’s objections,” his piercing blue optics met Jazz’s shining visor. 

 

“It’s not your fault, Prowler. You couldn’t have predicted that they were going to get ambushed.” Jazz’s voice was soft.

 

The Praxian turned away from him, “you have no way of proving that statement. Data was inconclusive and so we have no idea if either of them is injured or if Sunstreaker still functions.”

 

Jazz’s visor dimmed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get Sunshine outta wherever the ‘Cons have put ‘em and Sideswipe is already on his way back. They’ll be alright.”

 

“For their sakes,” said Prowl quietly, “I hope that you are right.”

* * *

 

**Special thanks to the four guests for the kudos!**

**Also thank you kx for the feedback! ♥ I greatly appreciate it.**

**If anyone has any pointers/critiquing for the way I'm writing the twins, Jazz, Prowl, and/or Optimus, it would be appreciated. It's my first time writing them so I'll try to be as accurate as possible.**

**Also, I don't know if I've mentioned this yet but the designs I'm going with for the 'bots will be G1/IDW and Knockout'll be TFP.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 10: Miles

Road.

 

Miles and miles of a seemingly never ending road.

 

His tires seemed to burn over the sun baked and cracked tarmac, devouring the miles as he sped along.

 

He had lost track of the time, hours blurring together. The only indication that any time had passed at all was the restless shifting of the human.

 

He still had miles and miles to go before he could safely contact the Autobots.

 

It was tiresome.

 

Frustrating.

 

He shouldn’t be running away, he should be searching.

 

Searching for his brother.

 

But of course, Prime would never forgive him if he placed a human in danger when he could just have easily gotten her to safety first.

 

The human was his first priority, whether he liked it or not.

 

Perhaps she wasn’t pleased with the arrangement, but it was her fault that she had gotten involved in the first place.

 

He noticed her head roll to the side, her eyelids drooping. She hadn’t complained about being low on energy or the substance that humans liked to refer to as food.

 

How much did organics need to eat in a day, anyways?

 

He executed a search through the network the humans liked to refer to as “the internet”, and he frowned at the results.

 

The fleshie wasn’t even meeting half of the requirements.

 

Starving herself, it seemed.

 

In protest? Or simply because she did not feel the peculiar human sensation known as hunger?

 

It wouldn’t do if he turned up at base with a malnutritioned squish in tow. Ratchet would have his hide for neglecting a charge.

 

“Hey squish.”

 

No response.

 

He tried again, this time a little louder, jarring her seat.

 

The human jerked, hands flying out to land on his dash to brace herself. “What?!”

 

“You’re low on fuel.”

 

“So?”

 

Sideswipe frowned, although she couldn’t see it. “You need to eat.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” she leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms.

 

“My scans indicate otherwise.”

 

She shrugged, “why do you care?”

 

“Paperwork,” not entirely true, but it seemed to be a term that the squish would understand.

 

_And hopefully motivate her..._

 

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Hair, what a strange thing. What purpose did it serve for humans other than obstruct their sight and collect oily substances?

 

“Fine,” she said reluctantly, digging out a sandwich from her bag in the backseat.

 

His engine revved in warning and she rolled her eyes. “I won’t get any crumbs in your interior, you big baby.”

 

“Good.” Crumbs were uncomfortable and they always found their way into nooks and crannies that they shouldn’t be in.

 

He muffled a sigh of his own.

 

_I’m coming, Sunny, just hang on._

 

* * *

 

Drops of blue energon splashed upon the cement flooring, slowly pooling together.

 

A screech of metal and a cry of agony pierced the still air, followed by a maniacal cackle.

 

“Autobots,” sneered the figure. “So puny. So weak.”

 

Sunstreaker craned his head to look at the Decepticon leering over him. “Go. To. The. Pit.”

 

“You **will** tell me what I want to know.” The ‘Con paused, shrugging, idly toying with the blade in his hand. “...Sunstreaker, is it?”

 

“Congratulations, you finally learned my name.”

 

He smirked, “indeed.” He flipped his blade so that it pressed menacingly against Sunstreaker’s neck wiring. “There are _so_ many ways to extract information.”

 

Sunstreaker resisted the urge to roll his optics. “Your point?”

 

Keep him talking.

 

Keep him busy.

 

Less pain.

 

More time for recovery.

 

“Cortical Psychic patches are preferred, but since we don’t have access to that technology,” he traced the blade down to rest over his spark chamber. “Good old fashioned torture will have to do.”

 

“I’ll never tell you anything.”

 

“Please, keep telling yourself that, Autobot.” A terrifying grin decorated the Decepticon’s faceplates as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice.“It will make this interrogation that much more enjoyable.”

 

He turned away in a flurry of motion, striding across the room to obtain something Sunstreaker couldn’t identify. He whipped back around with an excited expression akin to a human child on Christmas morning, long cords dangling in his hands. “How do you feel about electrical charges?” He practically skipped back to the table, humming as he began to attach cords together.

 

“Most Decepticons numb the sensors, you know.” He murmured, placing clamps down on Sunstreaker’s armor to transfer the current. “Keep you aware enough that you can feel the pain, but you’re powerless to move or speak.” He paused to stare into the golden twin’s optics, which appeared defiant, but was unable to hide the fear seeping in. “It keeps the Autobots from passing out or dying from pain sensory overload. Now I?”

 

He chuckled, turning to a control panel, flipping switches, adjusting knobs. “I like to see how much they can handle. Shall we?” He pulled the lever, and energy surged through the cords.

 

He couldn’t help it.

 

Screams tore through his vocal cords as his frame convulsed.

 

Crazed laughter rang throughout the room, taunting him.

 

 _Mocking_ him.

 

He pushed at the bond vainly. _Sideswipe._

 

More insistently, more forcefully in a panic.

 

_Help me._

 

He _never_ begged. Surely his brother would hear his plea and understand he was in desperate need of help. Of _him_.

 

 _Help me,_ **_please_ ** _._

 

“Don’t bother,” the Decepticon shrugged, picking up an energon cube from a nearby equipment stand, swirling the contents. “I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”

 

He couldn’t respond, only grind his denta together to quell more cries of pain.

 

He sat down on the now empty equipment stand. “I found out a long time ago: ‘The best way to block spark-split bonds’.” He raised an arm, palm facing Sunstreaker, waving the arm in front of himself as if he were a newsman from a cheesy sitcom, talking about a potential newspaper headline they had just come up with on the spot. “I never had my work published, but it’s very useful, don’t you think?”

 

_Sideswipe!_

 

 

Their bond had worked before, why not now? What had made then different?

 

“Your brother won’t be able to help you,” he reminded him, casually raised the glass to his own optics to inspect the energon.

 

_No, no, Sides, please._

 

“Your Autobot friends won’t be able to help you,” he lowered the glass to regard the yellow frontliner.

 

Sunstreaker’s optics flickered to the Decepticon, who wore a deranged expression.

 

“They will _never_ find you.” He leaned backwards, satisfied. “You will die here. Alone. Disregarded by everyone you hold dear.”

 

_No._

 

“Your brother is miles away, and he has no idea where you are.” He heard the cruel smirk in his voice. “I doubt he even _cares_. How does that make you feel, little Autobot?”

 

His optics narrowed, and a snarl escaped his throat.

 

“Hm, yes. I’m sure your brother is making his escape as we speak. He’s more interested in saving his own hide than yours.” He raised the glass to his mouth plates.

 

“F-fr-fra-g-g o-o-ff.”

 

The ‘Con chuckled. “Ah yes, defiance. I’m so glad you still have it. I hope that you will continue to harbor that _fickel_ quality.” He took a swig of the energon. “I’d offer this to you, but you look otherwise _preoccupied_.”

 

He didn’t respond, only continuing to glare at the ‘Con. The electricity surge cycled down, and the ‘Con frowned as he investigated. “Don’t be discouraged,” he bared his denta frighteningly. “The electricity will be back in a moment, it is simply recharging.”

 

Sunstreaker turned his head to stare at the ceiling, trying to distract himself by looking for a way out.

 

No such luck.

 

_He’s coming._

 

_I know he is._

 

But Sideswipe was miles and miles away.

 

He could only pray that he could find him before it was too late.

 

Would Sideswipe even be able to feel his death if the spark-split bond was being blocked?

 

He hoped so.

 

He didn’t want Sideswipe to get captured and share the same fate of he if he perished.

* * *

 

**Special thanks to Jennybot_19, JackOfAllTrades97, DisasterOfTheDivine, and the 3 guests who left kudos! ♥**

**Eeee, poor Sunny.**

**What'd you guys think about this chapter? Favorite part?**

**You like this 'Con or nah? Look at me comin' in with another OC because I have no idea who would fall under a good torturer for Sunshine boy.**

**Also, if you prefer a more/completely Cybertronian centered story, go check out my Transformers Drabbles story!**

**It can be found[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12241113/chapters/27812919)**

**I'll take requests for the drabbles, and as always, constructive criticism is welcome. I like to be sure I get the characters as close to how they act in the comics/series as possible.**

**Happy reading!**

**~ The Queen of Blades**


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